In from the cold
by MissLala73
Summary: More Mallie. Also eventually Neil/Grace/?. A figure from Millie's father's past wreaks havoc with devastating consequences. Can Max work alongside colleagues past, present and new to find and eliminate the danger? & can Millie trust his reasons?
1. Chapter 1

Max squeezed Millie's hand reassuringly and gave her a little smile, hoping to coax the same from her, but she couldn't reciprocate. Worry and fear were etched deeply into her brow and her bottom lip was quivering so much she had to bite down hard to stop it.

"It's going to be okay. Stay here. I'll get him," he whispered. Millie nodded and sniffed, she wanted to believe every word. She wanted him to believe she had complete faith in him so that he could focus and not make a mistake. Reluctantly she pulled her hand free, letting him go, watching her fingers separate from his. Max flexed his fingers around the hand gun in his other hand. Not the type of weapon he was used to using, it was almost like driving an automatic car after having always driven a manual, he mused abstractly. Shifting his mind back into gear, he took a quick look over his shoulder, then back to Millie for a fortifying kiss and tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear before stepping out from behind the filthy pallets that had been their source of safety.

Out of her sight, Millie listened intently to his quiet footsteps, straining to hear any other noises that would warn him of danger. Two shots rang out echoing off the bare walls of the derelict brewery basement. Between them, the sickening sound of a body falling to the ground with a lifeless dull thud.

**A week earlier - August bank holiday weekend, Saturday morning.**

Max couldn't stay in bed any longer. He'd already been awake for an hour listening to the rhythm of her breathing, rehearsing his words over and over. Millie lay on her side with her back to him, her hair flowing around her. He wanted to run his fingers over the curves of her body and nestle into her, but inevitably she would wake and then who knew when he would get another chance to do what he had planned. Carefully he eased out of bed and into the bathroom to splash water over his face and quickly brush his teeth. Grabbing some clothes he shrugged them on and made his way silently out into the hallway listening out for any sound or sign of life. Nothing. That was good. He crept down the stairs, avoiding the squeakiest step second from bottom, and sighed with relief as his bare feet hit the cool wooden boards of the hall floor. After what felt like weeks of incessant rain, the preceding days had suddenly grown hotter and hotter to the point where Max had been clawing at the walls of his office to get out to the country to Richard and Sondra's home where the air wasn't thick with noise, fumes and dirt, and where he wasn't surrounded by the equally filthy detritus of society. He needed a break away from the hideous reality of it all, even if only for a couple of days.

The silence was broken by the sound of scratching at the door to Richard's study, followed by a sharp "Charlie, stop that!" as Richard shouted at the family Spaniel. Max could fool the rest of the family with his stealth, but the dog's hearing was second to none. He took several deep breaths as he approached the wooden door, building his resolve yet feeling more nervous than he could ever remember. He didn't need to do this, it was an absurd outmoded convention but Sondra had made pretty clear, without actually saying anything directly of course, that it would be regarded favourably. Max fisted his hands and clenched his jaw, then knocked with what he hoped was would pass as conviction.

"Come!"

With only the briefest hesitation, he turned the doorknob and stepped inside the inner sanctum. It should have been with dignity, but Charlie, as always so excited to see her friend, rushed at him, nearly tripping him up not for the first time. Cursing under his breath for forgetting to look down before entering a room wherever the dog was likely to be, he disentangled his legs, gently guiding the animal away. When Max looked up he found Richard staring at him, clearly wondering at his ineptitude. It was not a good start to what he had hoped would be a forthright man-to-man conversation.

"Max, what can I do for you?" he asked from his chair, not offering any assistance.

Max wasn't sure, but he could have sworn there was a glint in the older man's eyes that hinted he knew exactly why Max wanted to see him.

"I, er, want to ask you something."

"I see, well, take a seat," Richard waved a hand at a chair on the opposite side of the imposing desk that dominated the room. Immediately, Max found himself doing as he was told. "So, what is it?"

"What?" momentarily caught off the ball as he negotiated his way round the dog to sit down.

"What did you want to ask me?"

"Oh," he swallowed hard, thinking how ridiculous this all was. "I … I want … no sorry, I would like your permission to er, ask your daughter to marry me, Millie that is." There, done. Now all he had to do was wait for the reaction. Not that it mattered, he told himself strongly, he was going to ask her regardless of what Richard said now, but even so he realised how badly he wanted Richard's approval and he knew how much it would mean to Millie.

Richard sighed. "I thought this might be on the cards. I can't say I'm thrilled. You're a copper and that's something I still find hard to deal with. And to have you for a son-in-law …" he sat back in his chair and closed his eyes as if that would make the prospect more palatable.

"But she's a copper too. I don't understand why it's different that I am."

Richard's eyes snapped open. "Because Millie is different. She doesn't poke around looking for trouble. I wasn't happy when she joined, didn't think it would last to be honest but she seems to enjoy it and that's what matters most. For her sake, I have to live with it."

"So it is me you have a problem with."

"Not exactly, although there are elements of the past that I'd rather _you_ didn't know too much about."

"Really?"

"See? That's what I mean. I hint at something and immediately you want to know more. Let's just say not every one of my transactions has been whiter than white, but I wouldn't be alone in that. Even you must have got close to the line on occasion," Richard eyed Max beadily but Max held his nerve and gave nothing away, "or perhaps had colleagues that did cross the line while you said nothing?" he paused, watching. "It's all old history now and in an era I'd rather forget. I don't think anything I've done was illegal, but some of my old friends, good friends … well, I don't want to drop them in it with the law. And I'm not sure that I can trust you."

"What if I promise not to ask questions?"

"Do you think you could keep a promise like that?" Richard asked with a laugh before continuing, "of course, it doesn't help that you remind me of myself, when I was younger and that worries me."

"Why's that?"

"Because Millie isn't like Sondra, who you may have noticed, runs this place, me and the business as well if truth be known. She's so much tougher than Millie and I need that. I suspect you do too. I'm concerned that Millie won't be strong enough to rein you in, that you'll run roughshod over her and make her unhappy." Max swallowed in disbelief that her own father knew so little about his favoured daughter, but he let him continue as his tone turning mournful. "Besides, that isn't really it. You've taken my place in her life. Millie was always mine, while Tara has always been Sondra's. First I lost some of her to her job, now I'm losing more of her to you. There will only be a tiny piece left for me."

"I'll look after her you know, she means everything to me," Max realised that they had finally reached the crux of Richard's reservations and hoped that he could convince him of his devotion.

Silence hung between the two men, saying more than words could until finally Richard spoke. "Yes. I'm sure you will."

"Does that mean I have your permission?"

"Do you need it?"

"I, um, thought you might like to give it."

"Sondra?"

"Yeah," Max hung his head sheepishly.

"I see. Did she explain?" Max shook his head. "I see," he repeated in a mutter, looking out of the window. "I refused to ask her father for his permission and to this day she's convinced that if I had done so, he and I would have got along better. Man to man, you know? Broken down a few barriers. She's a wise woman, but there's still some youthful naivety in there. The only barrier between me and her father was class and no amount of chat would have made any difference. Only money has thawed the ice there."

"So Sondra has manipulated us both into this? She insinuated that if I asked you for permission out of respect, we would get along better."

"Looks like it." He laughed wryly. "She's probably right this time though. It must have taken a fair bit of courage to come to me like this." He met Max's gaze levelly, contemplating his next move and watching the tiny beads of sweat breaking out on Max's forehead. "No questions? There's nothing to find except a few incidences that mean nothing now and will only hurt people I care about if they become common knowledge."

It went against the grain, but Max felt he understood Richard's fears. "No questions," he agreed. "Do I have your blessing?"

"I probably wouldn't go that far," Richard joked, "but ask her. I doubt she'll refuse you."

Max closed his eyes in relief at receiving at least some measure of approval from the man he hoped would be his father-in-law. As he opened them, he found Richard still regarding him intently, tapping a finger on his desk. "There's money of course." Max was completely confused, wondering in mounting horror if Richard was now trying to buy him off.

"What?"

"Her money."

"Oh, good … no, I didn't mean it like that," reacting to Richard's darkening expression.

"Hmm, well. She has money, everything I've worked for was for Sondra and the girls. The flat is in her name, it's paid for and there's a fund-"

"I'm not interested in her money, we can manage-"

"I don't want her to manage," Richard rebuked him sharply. "I want her, and any children that she may, have to live well. I haven't put in all those hours over the years to have her 'manage'." Max's eyes widened, he hadn't really thought about children as anything other than hypothetical and realised with a jolt that he had better start thinking about that possibility with some seriousness. "But she always refuses to take anything, Tara on the other hand, is not quite so proud," he grimaced, thinking of the last humanitarian pilgrimage he'd been required to fund. "The rent that you've both been paying on the flat has been going straight back into the fund, not that she knows. Later, when … if she agrees to marry you, you and I will sit together and go through it."

"But it's Millie's. I don't-," Max was beginning to wonder if he'd slipped back a century or two.

"I don't care. This is the way I look after my family. You have a lot to learn Max." Max was just about to reiterate that he didn't want to be involved with whatever money Millie might have when Richard held up a hand to silence him. "Don't you have something else to do rather than argue with me?"


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks as ever for the reviews!

**Saturday lunchtime**

"Ugh! What have you put in this? Bricks?"

"Food. And drink. It's called a picnic. Give it to me, I know it's heavy."

"You hate picnics, why are we doing this?"

"Because it's hot and I thought you would like it. But if you're going to complain, we can always go back inside …"

"No, no, no! I'm happy! Look, I'm smiling!"

"Good," he smiled back, warmth touching his eyes and filling her heart.

"Where are we going?" asked Millie as Max hauled everything he had piled into the cooler bag out into the garden.

"To the summerhouse."

"At the end of the garden? That's not a proper picnic."

"I thought you weren't going to complain."

"I'm not, just saying that's all. A picnic should involve going somewhere different."

"Stop."

"There's no need to be sharp," Millie grumbled.

"No, I mean stop here."

"But we're not-"

"Stand here, close your eyes and be quiet. I'll be back in a moment."

"What are you doing? Where are you going? This feels really stupid," she called out as his quiet footsteps receded into the distance.

"Be quiet!" and then adding under his breath, "not strong enough to rein me in? He has no bloody idea." Max darted round the hedge to the small summerhouse which he had already been out to earlier that morning, laying out its rugs and cushions in front of it in what he hoped was a romantic fashion, although he wasn't really sure what that might look like. The content of the cooler bag was emptied out and the champagne placed in a metal bucket of once ice but now water to keep cool. Finally as satisfied as he could be that it didn't look a complete mess he turned back to find Millie still standing dutifully in the middle of the lawn, here eyes still shut. The sun was high in the sky and it was getting hotter, at least it was as far as he was concerned. She stood barefoot in only a bikini and sheer shirt dress that rippled over her body in the light breeze, lifting to reveal a length of enticing pale thigh.

"Can I open my eyes now? Should I be concerned at what I might see?" she giggled as she heard his approach, breaking the spell.

"No and maybe," he answered taking her hands and pulling her forwards as he walked backwards to behind the hedge. "Keep them closed, or there'll be trouble," he warned sternly, masking his nerves. "Okay, stop there." Slightly creakily and ruing how aged was sneakily creeping up on him, he dropped down to one knee, still with her hands in his. "You can open them now," his voice was soft, little more than a whisper floating up to her. Millie blinked, adjusting to the sudden light and taking a moment to realise that he wasn't standing in front of her. Her eyes dropped to his and her heart stopped at the sight. Usually so physically strong, so in control, it always knocked her sideways whenever she saw his vulnerability, the contrast between the two character traits so stark.

"Marry me, Millie. Please?"

She gazed at him for what felt like several minutes for them both, savouring this moment that she'd never dared to believe could happen. He was so damaged by his past that it was inconceivable to her that he would want marriage and for her part simply sharing her daily life with him had seemed enough. But in this instant she knew that it had never been enough, she wanted it all and now he was willingly offering it to her. She had given no hints, no ultimatum. Perhaps all it had taken was time together, content and secure. Learning to share their lives, their successes and disappointments, doing the ordinary things that ordinary people do. Making love and sometimes not making love, not every day could be filled with passion after all.

"Millie?" his voice took on a strained note and she realised she was unconsciously torturing him while lost in her thoughts. She fell to her knees in front of him, still holding his hands between their bodies.

"Yes, of course I will. Yes!" she broke out into a wide smile and flung her arms around him, burying her face into his neck, breathing in his pulse as he held her tightly to his body with one arm, and fishing around in his pocket with his free hand to draw out a small suede pouch. From it, he produced a ring.

"If you don't like it we can change-"

"I love it, Max. I love it," she assured him as he slid the gold band claw set with three good sized diamonds onto her finger.

"Damn, it's loose. I thought I'd got it exactly right, but that was ages ago," he murmured. Millie wondered what he meant, but decided now probably wasn't the best time to question him.

"We can get it altered, at least it's not too tight. I can still wear it and show to the world that I'm an engaged woman! It should help to ward off those predatory types who keep approaching you," she felt herself gushing in breathless excitement.

"When? "Who? I've never noticed anyone."

"Right answer," she congratulated him giddily. "Oh!"

"What?"

"You did all this?" she whispered. On the periphery of her vision, Millie had suddenly caught the shade dappled romantic setting in which they knelt.

"Yeah," Max felt awkward, without confidence in his attempt at putting together a scene worthy of the moment. "Is it okay? It's not something I've ever tried to do before. The parks in Canley are excatly suitable settings ..."

"It's wonderful, the best picnic ever. Can I cry?"

"You can try, but I bet I can stop you," countered Max, feeling more at home with the physical nature of seduction than the romance.

"Bet you can't-"

He took her face between his hands, running a thumb over her lower lip before cutting off her words and drawing a low moan from her throat in reply. The kiss deepened, taking them somewhere new. She would be his. It might only be a piece of paper and a couple of rings, but to Max, Millie was giving him more than he had ever imagined any woman would or could. Despite knowing all she did, despite the mistakes he had made and the pain he had caused her, she was prepared to commit her life to him. His heart soared ecstatically as he pressed his body against her and she softened into him, each symbiotically filling the contours of the other.

Millie felt herself go weak in his embrace. Her mind would always be her own, but her body and soul were entirely different, she was inescapably drawn, bound to him. More deeply in love than ever. She hated the professional necessity of being apart each day and although even to her it sounded absurd, wearing his ring already connected them more than she could have ever imagined possible. Increasingly light-headed, they broke apart only to gasp for air before resuming once again. His fingers worked at the buttons from the bottom of her shirt-dress, finally pushing it back to reveal the body beneath, and then knowingly grazed her nape as he pulled apart the bow tying the strings of her white bikini. It fell to her waist beneath the shirt only partially covering her breasts, only giving an illusion of decency. Taking in the heavy-lidded vision of abandonment knelt before him, he unclipped her hair, raking through it as it tumbled down around her shoulders. Lowering her down beneath him, he lovingly rested her head on the cushions and watched as her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath from her parted lips. He ran his hands from the smooth column of her neck down to between her breasts, absorbing her heartbeat until he could bear it no more and needed to feel more of her, slowly caressing her skin as he made his way over her stomach towards her hips and the ties of the remainder of her bikini. Millie tugged at his polo shirt, dragging it over his chest and forcing his arms up to shrug it off. He needed no further invitation to divest himself of his shorts.

Max looked down at his woman, his pride growing in primal fervour with his arousal, all nerves dissolved in the melting heat. She had agreed to be his wife and he would be her husband, the belonging that had always eluded him had evaporated.

Max peeled his damp skin away from hers. "I'm going to be good to you, Millie."

She looked up and met his gaze quizzically, he seemed to be trying to convince himself as much as her. "Why did you say that?"

Max pondered how honest he should be as she played with a lock of his hair. "It's just something your Dad said."

"And?" Millie prompted as his answer hung between them.

"He's worried that I won't make you happy," Millie was just about to rubbish her father's concerns when Max continued, "and he's right to be worried. Promise me, Millie, promise that you'll always tell me if I go too far or if I forget to put you first, to put us first. I don't mean to forget, but sometimes …," he paused unsure how to phrase his fears, "I don't want you to ever think that anything is more important than you."

Millie wanted to chide him for being overly dramatic, but the sincerity in his voice was reflected by the anguish in his eyes, searching hers for help. "Of course I will, don't I anyway? We're in this together. You and me," she coaxed a smile from him. "When did Dad say that to you?"

"This morning before he and you Mum went out, when I …" he stopped himself.

"You what? What did you do?"

"Nothing, ow, no stop … please stop …" His writhing from Millie's tickles reached epic proportion as he fought to evade her hands and her naked body rubbing against his, falling onto his back. "Okay, okay, I'll tell you… I asked him for permission to ask you to marry me."

"You did what?" she exclaimed from above him and for a moment, Max thought she wasn't going to respond well to the archaic ritual he had followed early that morning, but then she burst into peals of hysterical laughter. "That is the most insane thing I have ever heard you do, which is really saying something! What happened?"

Max tried to maintain some semblance of dignity. "I suppose he did what any self-respecting father would do and gave me a hard time. I was terrified," he admitted grudgingly.

"Oh I would have loved to have to have been there. What did he say?"

"That's between me and him."

"Man-talk?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Not good enough, I want to know-," she attempted to resume her tickling but this time Max caught her wrists and flipped her over, pinning her down on her back and enjoying every moment of her wriggling against him.

"Oh dear," he tutted, shaking his head sadly, "I can see you might need some wifely training, might as well make a start now …"

"Oh darlings! That is wonderful. I'm so happy for you both." Sondra took her daughter and future son-in-law into her arms. Max noted over her shoulder that Richard had poured himself an Irish whisky, presumably to blur his own misgivings. Before their conversation that morning, Max might have been unnerved, but now he understood Richard's primary concern was for the loss of his daughter and less about the forced acquisition of a son he couldn't quite bring himself to trust. A little bit less anyway.

As Sondra released the pair from her arms but still held their hands in each of hers, she asked the much anticipated question. "So, will this be a long engagement, or …?"

Millie looked over at Max and bit her lip to stop laughing. He had something of the 'rabbit trapped in the headlights' look about him. He wanted to be married to Millie, the actually 'getting married' part however was downright scary. "I'm joking, Max. I know you two will work it out, however and whenever you choose. I won't be a wedding obsessed mother who buys every magazine on the stand every month, I promise."

Richard nearly choked on his whisky. "Can we eat now?"

Supper progressed amiably. Richard relaxed, aided by stomach expanding portions of rich coq au vin with the creamiest dauphinoise potatoes and Millie's affectionate gestures towards her beloved father, at one point whispering to him, "I love you, that won't ever change you know." By the time Sondra served the most exquisitely pears poached in dessert wine with the lightest crème anglaise, the four were laughing and chatting without barriers. Finally unable to take another mouthful, Millie sat back and surveyed her family with satisfaction and frankly more than a little smugness at her success. The two men who meant so much to her were finally getting along.

It was Sondra who snapped her out of her reverie when she leapt up at the sounds of the back door creaking open and a heavy bag crashing to the floor of the utility room.

"Tara!"

"Tara? I thought she wasn't coming home until next-" Millie couldn't help but feel disappointed that her sister's return would inevitably upstage her and disrupt the newly forged harmony.

"Mummy! Daddy!" The younger woman flew at her parents excitedly, first into the arms of Sondra who hugged her youngest offspring fiercely. Richard however was less than impressed to receive a mouthful of her rather foul-smelling and bedraggled dreadlocked hair, interwoven with filthy ribbons.

"What the-" he recoiled, his horror intensifying when he caught sight of the tall and equally bedraggled blonde man who had followed her into the room.

Max smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

I must thank Feebee for her inspiration and assistance in this chapter. I have learnt so much! Seriously though, the stereotype it contains is meant with affection, not insult. I hope you will think so too.

BTW, this story _may_ turn 'M' at some point, so either reset your rating filter or add it to your story alert …

**Sunday AM**

Two men sat in the blissful cool of the kitchen, in silence. Not their usual slightly awkward silence but one which held an element of amiability as they drank their coffee and ate their toast. Both were surprisingly content to be there together, one was feeling more than a little relieved, and ever so slightly smug. Both also noticed that they appeared to be wearing the same uniform of neutral coloured shorts and polo shirts, but neither made any comment.

As soon as Max set eyes on Guy the previous night he knew his own status would rise within family Brown. Richard had a new victim to disapprove of and mistrust. He smiled behind his coffee cup and lifted the main section of the Sunday Times to hide his pleasure. Not his first pleasure of the day of course, that had been making love to Millie an hour or so earlier. And in her parents' house it was always such a pleasure. She would be reluctant to begin with, worried they would be overheard, but Max had enough tricks to help change her mind and his success was always inevitable. It thrilled him to watch her try to quietly contain herself, pushing her further and further until he withdrew just enough to make her pull him back with ferocity so far removed from her every day demeanour. Finally with huge wracking sobs and gasps for air she finally allowed her body to overrule her mind and accept the release that came with it, taking him with her.

Where Max had been happy, almost gleeful, to meet the new arrival, Millie had become noticeably quiet and withdrawn. He had tried to bolster her but to no avail and together they had excused themselves, leaving Richard and Sondra to catch up with Tara's latest exploits and get to know her new friend. Returning from the bathroom, Max found her sitting on the bed in her underwear hugging her knees to her chest and rotating the diamonds around her finger absently.

"Are you having second thoughts?" he asked while taking off his watch, striving for lightness in his tone to mask his concern.

"What?" she looked up to him, bewildered. "No, not at all. Why do you say that?"

"You've been pretty quiet for a while, I … I wondered if perhaps you weren't sure."

Millie shook her head. Of course not, I've never been more sure of anything. It's Tara. The same old story. She comes home with tales of her adventures," she sighed, "it makes me feel … boring and steady and far too sensible. I know it's stupid, but I still don't understand why you wouldn't prefer to be with someone like her."

"Because women like her are all well and good for a shag but that's all. Whereas women like you are most definitely for keeping," he knelt in towards her, lifting her hair and nuzzling into her neck.

"Oh, so you'd shag her?" Millie couldn't help the small smile tugging of the corners of her mouth.

"I didn't say that." Millie raised her eyebrows, and Max knew he'd broken through. "I might have shagged women like her, but _she_ doesn't do anything for me," suddenly serious, he broke off to look into her eyes, "nobody has since we've been together." Both instantly thought of Irina, but she was no longer relevant, nothing more that a chapter of the story that had brought them to this point.

He'd left her in bed that morning having spent much of the previous night convincing her, in his own special way, that Tara's return came a poor second to their news. Tara came and went with the wind, her departures and arrivals were frequent occurrences as she latched on to one new humanitarian or environmental catastrophe after another. As Max read the latest report from America on the BP leaking well, he fully expected her to disappear to the Louisiana bayoux within days, quite possibly with her new boyfriend in tow, to wash the polluting oil off the local wildlife, animal and human.

The new boyfriend, an Australian. Max recalled with amusement the horror that spread across Richard's face at the unkempt specimen that had followed Tara into his house and then nearly choked on his wine as it sat down next to him, immediately helping himself to the remaining poached pears directly from the bowl with the serving spoon and an overly familiar wink at Sondra. To her credit, Sondra barely flinched at that. However, she was unable to hold back a squeak of surprise when he belched loudly in appreciation of her culinary accomplishments before asking in his broad accent for 'the dunny'.

The quiet breakfast was shattered by shuffling footsteps entering the room. Max was the first to look up as his jaw dropped. Guy came to a standstill only a couple of feet away, a couple of feet too close and naked except for the briefest of tight orange briefs, leaving little to the imagination but delivering much to the eye.

"Morning all," he yawned, suddenly attracting Richard's attention with a jolt. Guy looked from one man to the other and then back again. "You two always go shopping together?" he asked referring to the uniform they wore. Without waiting for a response, he plonked himself in between them and began noisily attacking the food on the table. "Nice place you've got here, Dick. You must have done well for yourself," he commented, his mouth full of cornflakes. Richard reluctantly looked across as the interloper in his household and Max nearly choked on his toast at the strained expression on his face, knowing that not too long ago he would have been its cause. Guy was undoubtedly crude and vulgar, but Richard was hardly the height of sophistication by birth, he'd had to come a long way himself to meet Sondra's expectations of behaviour. But all that was conveniently forgotten as he rose from the able with his coffee cup and the business section of the paper in hand.

"I'll be in my study, if anyone wants me … urgently," he added as a clear warning that his morning was not to be needlessly disturbed any further.

"Is Dick always like that?" asked Guy, reaching for a croissant and slathering it with soft butter.

"Yeah, but especially so when people he's never met before call him Dick."

"Oh," Guy sniffed, apparently unconcerned by the offence he was causing, "the sensitive type then?"

"Not really, no. But you might like to tone yourself down, show him a bit of respect if you want to be on his good side."

"Ah, I'll work my charm on him, don't you worry," Guy joked with a wink which Max found deeply unpleasant to be the recipient of, as if Guy saw him as being of the same ilk. "Besides, it's not _his_ good side I'm interested in." Max looked at him with barely disguised distaste but Guy was oblivious, continuing, "she is a cracking little goer. Great arse, nice tits, not as good as your girl's of course," Max clenched his fists, "but you can't have everything. And she knows exactly what to do with her mouth. She plays the pink oboe a treat, if you know what I mean," he added with a lascivious leer before taking a large bite of croissant, flakes falling from his mouth as he went on. "You know, I've wondered what the two of them might be like together since Taz showed me a photo of Mil, really nice tits," he mused cupping his hands as if he was holding them. Max wondered if he might explode with the desire to pummel Guy to a pulp, hoping that imagining himself doing it would be enough rather than having to go through with it and then having to explain to everyone else why. "You must have thought about it mate, I mean they're two little crackers, any bloke's dream to have two sisters like that at the same time." Guy drained his coffee and let out a resounding belch while giving his chest another good scratch. "Well, all this talk is enough to raise the old mongrel for another go. It's time for my morning dump and then I'm off to crash the yoghurt truck again. Have a good one yourself," and with that he sauntered off out into the hall and up the stairs, scratching his backside with his hand inside his unnervingly tight briefs. Max felt his shoulders slump in relief that Guy's rampant libido had got the better of him before his own resolve had evaporated.

"Everything okay, Max? You look worried." Sondra walked in through the patio doors from the garden and deposited her basket of cut flowers on the table next to Max.

"Um, yeah, no, I'm fine. It was just something Guy said, I was trying to work out what he meant, that's all." Sondra eyed him with amusement and Max realised that she wasn't in the least bit likely to be offended by her new houseguest, unlike her husband. "He's er, quite something, isn't he?" remarked Max with a chuckle, able to laugh now the source of his irritation was no longer present.

"Well, I suppose we must accept he is … an unusual individual, thankfully uncharacteristic of all Australian men. Oh you're wearing the clothes I bought for you, good. I hope they're a comfortable fit. I can always take them back if not."

While the men got to know each other downstairs, Millie was woken by a tap at the door.

"You alone in there?" called out her sister.

"Yeah, come in." Millie sat up in bed and pulled the bed sheet around her.

Tara walked into the room, leaving the door open behind her and threw herself down onto the bed next to her sister. "Are you okay? You seemed really quiet last night."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I'm glad you're back, I have missed you. I just feel a bit dull in comparison sometimes. You always have the best stories to tell."

"You are not dull. You're like Mum, the glue that holds us all together. That's not dull, it's warm and loving and I'm so happy for you and Max, even if I still think he's a bit of an opinionated prick."

"Tara!"

"Okay, he's a lot of an opinionated prick! Ow!" Millie punched her sister in the arm at the insult.

"Anyway, what have you managed to bring home this time? Dad looked ready to have a fit when he called him Dick."

"I know! Wasn't it hilarious? Mum didn't seem to mind being called Sandy though. Might try that one myself later."

"Better not let Dad hear or you'll be disinherited."

"I don't care about money."

"You will if you can't pay for your flights next time you head off. So, what on earth are you doing with him? He's a complete yob."

Tara wiggled her fingers suggestively and whispered, "He's a genius. So much so that I threw away my vibrator! He calls it strumming the one string banjo, can you believe it?" she ended on a shriek.

"Oh my God, Tara, that's revolting. You can't hook up with someone just because he's good in the sack."

"Why not? Come on, let's face it, what did you see in lover-man to begin with? His sparkling personality, sensational wit and warm heart? What makes you think Guy doesn't have hidden depths?" Millie pulled a face to say that she sincerely doubted Tara's thought process on this one. "Anyway, if he doesn't, at least I'll have some fun in finding out. Honestly Millie, the things that man can do -"

"No! That's enough, I don't want that image in my head..."

"Too late, it's already there!" trilled Tara as she flopped onto her back.

"Ugh! And what's going on with your hair?" Millie gingerly picked at a length. "All these dreadlocks are awful, and it smells," complained Millie in an effort to get away from her sister's lurid descriptions of her sex life.

"I know, but honestly it was the best option at the time. Not enough water for hair washing, so I let it go. Mum's taking me to her hairdresser on Tuesday for an elfin boy crop. Guy thinks it will be a real turn on, body of a woman but looking slightly like a boy-"

"Tara!"

"Taz? Where are you?" called out the subject of their conversation who then appeared in the doorway. "Oh there you are, both of you." Millie recoiled as his eyes lit on first her then Tara. She pulled the sheet a little higher, wishing it was something more substantial than thin white cotton. She could see exactly what he was thinking. "Well now, a bloke could get very used to starting a day like this."

"Like what?" asked Tara provocatively, looking back at Millie and giving her a wink. Millie rolled her eyes at the vulgarity of it all and still with her modesty protected slumped back against the headboard, hoping these two would just go away.

"What the hell is going on?" Millie snapped back to attention at the strength of force in Max's voice. It occurred to her that he was wearing more in the way of clothing than the rest of them put together. No wonder he wasn't looking pleased with what he saw.

"Guy," Tara drew out the single syllable in warning laced with humour as she leapt from the bed, "I think we'd better leave these two alone, don't you?" Guy looked over at Millie initially with disappointment but then shrugged as he returned his attention back to Tara who had slipped a shoulder free of her dressing gown and was gently pushing him back towards the door, past a fierce looking Max. "C'mon baby, if you're good to me I might just vacuum that vein of yours!"

Max firmly shut the door behind them, staring at it furiously until he was disturbed by a muffled giggle behind him.

"Oh, you think that was funny do you?" he asked menacingly, as he walked towards her rather vulnerable form.

**Sunday pm**

"Georgie! Good to hear from you. How's tricks?" Richard's voice rang out from his study as Max walked past the closed door. He knew he should keep walking, he'd promised not to ask questions, but this wasn't asking anything, was it? He was only taking an interest. "Georgie, slow down, slow down. Start again." Max edged closer, his ear to the wood. "How much? Shit, Georgie, I don't know. That's a lot to ask. What's going on? … Alright, I get it," he sighed deeply. "I'll have to talk to Sondra … yes, I do. I can't siphon off that sort of cash without her knowing … you say that, but you won't pay it back, at least she'll find out before you do and I'm not going to lie to her … yeah … yeah. I'll see what I can do … I said, I'll see what I can do, Georgie. I can't make any promises, mate. I wish …" another deep sigh, "it's too late for that though isn't it? Way too late. I'll call you Georgie and listen, not a word of this, not to anyone."

Moments later, Max heard footsteps in the kitchen, which he guessed belonged to Sondra. Ducking into the downstairs loo for cover, he waited. Sure enough, within seconds he heard Richard leave his study and make his way into the kitchen. Two sets of footsteps then returned to the study, the door closing firmly behind them.

"Georgie needs money."

"How much?"

"Five hundred."

"Thousand, I assume. Did he tell you what for this time?"

"No, said it was better if I didn't know."

Sondra paused. "Do we have it?"

"Yes, but it's what I was going to use for the house in Italy."

"Give it to him," she fired back. "Give it to him, but this is the last time. Nothing more, no more contact."

"But-"

"I love him too, Richard," she interrupted, he voice harder than Max had ever heard. "But I love this family far more and I will not allow his choices to have any more influence over us. I know he means a lot to you, I know you have so much shared history, but he has been nothing but a liability for years. You can't keep on bailing him out like this. He made the decision to follow a different path years ago. I don't want him in our lives, I won't let him drag us down with him."

The matriarch had spoken and her word was final. Max moved away from the door and back out into the garden, he wouldn't learn anything more from listening in. Georgie Fleischmann had long niggled away at Max. They had met on a handful of occasions and the man had always been jovial, almost to the point of reckless by joking that Max wouldn't want to know too much about him, insinuating that his underworld connections were very close to home, yet he himself was as clean as a whistle. He seemed to believe himself untouchable, that his network of business ventures provided all the respectability he needed. But Max knew his clubs and betting shops were little more than a front for something more sinister, yet uncovering enough evidence to launch an investigation had always been the problem. Georgie was too well liked in the community for anyone to give up anything on him. Max pondered what he should do. How binding was his promise to Richard yesterday morning? He'd agreed not to ask questions, but surely that only applied to Richard and the family. Questions asked during the routine course of his work had to be another matter entirely, didn't it? And Sondra was clearly keen to oust Georgie from her circle while he wanted to oust Georgie from Canley, together with as many associates as he could round up. They had a common goal, in fact he'd be doing it for her as much as himself. He was just going to have to be discreet, that's all.


	4. Chapter 4

Please allow me a little licence on this one. I've no idea if the Met's IT system can do what I've suggested (although you'd think it should) & also I've relocated SOCA into New Scotland Yard to suit me ... because I can!

**Tuesday – Sun Hill CID**

The heat wave still hadn't broken, unlike the air conditioning which had the week before with so far sight nor sound of the engineer to repair it. Mutiny was on the cards if he didn't pitch up in the next day or so. All the windows were open, but they seemed only to let more warm air into the building, not that it needed more since the arrival of the new DS in CID. Behind his desk, Max pined for the peace of the long holiday weekend, even if that meant he had to endure the crassness of Tara's boyfriend. Richard's eye-popping reaction at each priceless utterance had given enough light relief to make it bearable. Instead, he stared at the computer screen with narrowed eyes, the scant contents of Georgie Fleischmann's file on the PNC already imprinted in his mind so there was nothing new to be gleaned, but it helped solidify his determination to take his mistrust of the man a step further. A step that he wouldn't be able to take back and might not earn him goodwill but he knew it was the right thing to do if even Sondra wanted the man out of their lives.

He printed off two copies of the details from the screen and peered up and out into the eerily quiet CID office, pondering who to bring on board. He needed to be discreet but effective. Grace. She wasn't likely to gossip. Mickey. Max couldn't be so sure about his ability to hold his tongue but he had to admit there was no one better at cajoling information out of the lower end of the social spectrum. Those with most to lose and of little value to their criminal masters but inevitably swayed by the prospect of a little quick cash to pay a few bills or feed a habit. But keeping this quiet was paramount, he'd have to get them to do their digging without the other knowing, or talking. If Millie found out, or Richard for that matter … well, he didn't like to think too much about those consequences.

"Grace, a word please."

Grace looked up at him and sighed. "Yes, Guv." She hated having to report directly to Max Carter and having realised after her few years at Sun Hill that her career was unlikely to progress further under his leadership, was already looking into the other options. The new DS had only galvanised her intention and a move back to New Scotland Yard was her favourite, although that brought its own dilemma.

Yet in his office, Grace had to admire the neatness and order with which Max operated. Nothing was ever out of place, nothing personal on display. His relationship with Millie Brown was well known, albeit with a degree of disbelief, but there were no photographs or mementos to show her existence in his life. It was as if he inhabited two completely separate worlds and it irked her to admit they had that in common, the concept that they could share any character trait was galling.

"I want you to look into this man." He shoved a copy of Fleischmann's details her way, barely looking at her.

Grace studied the information intently, hoping to make this as brief as possible. "What am I looking for?"

Max paused, the truth was he didn't know what he was hoping to find, but there had to be something and Grace was meticulous enough to find it. "Anything … anything that seems suspicious." Grace raised an eyebrow at his answer and he knew it sounded weak. "This man is at the centre of something big, he needs money, a lot of money, urgently, and not for the first time. I want to know what he needs it for and who else is involved. Check all his financial records, everything for him and any business he has an interest in. Check his family and anyone else he is playing with and check their finances as well. I want to know where the money is going."

"Right. What about where the money is coming from?

"No, no need, that's not important."

She eyed him warily, "okay, well I've got-"

"I want it by tomorrow, Grace."

"But-"

"Tomorrow," he interrupted firmly, forcing Grace to nod in mute acquiescence and turn away to the door. "Oh, and Grace?"

"Yes, Guv?"

"Keep this to yourself, will you?"

"Of course," but he caught the questioning look in her eyes and could only hope that this wasn't going to backfire.

Mickey was also at his desk but Max waited before co-opting him on his mission. Fortunately it wasn't long before nicotine withdrawal took hold and Mickey rose to satisfy his habit in the yard. Max gave him a minute or two before following him down and joining him leaning against the guard rails overlooking the ramp.

"Mickey, everything okay?"

"Er, yeah, Guv," Mickey replied, wary of Max's unusual concern.

"Good," silence fell for a moment. "I need you to do something for me." He produced the same details he'd given to Grace. "Find out what you can about him."

"Georgie Fleischmann? Doesn't have a couple of betting shops on the other side of Canley?"

"Yeah. And the Parisa Bar, amongst other interests."

"He's got a daughter, hasn't he?"

"Has he?" asked Max feigning ignorance.

"Yeah, oh what's her name? All tits, teeth and fake tan … Carly, that's it. Carly Fleischmann." Mickey chuckled. "I threatened to bring her down the station once. She was laying into a bouncer at a club with her handbag. Like little and large, it was. Turned out he worked for her Dad but didn't know her and tried to refuse one of her mates entry. She's hard, good luck to any bloke who tries to take her on."

"Hmm," Max felt strangely uncomfortable in his deception, Millie had never said much about Carly but he understood enough to know that they were not friends. "Well, it's her father I'm interested in although he might have got her involved. Any whispers about deals or any difficulties he's having, I want to know. But keep it discreet, I don't want him to get wind that we're interested."

"What do you think he's up to?" Mickey took a drag of his cigarette and Max envied his weakness, the craving never really subsided, especially at times like these.

"I don't know, but I do know he needs money and I want to know why."

"You and the others."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Manson had a go for a while, but gave up on him in the end. Couldn't get anywhere near him."

"I'm not having 'a go', I want him and I'm not 'giving up'." The sudden vehemence in Max's tone startled Mickey. He opened his mouth to ask why it was so important to him but swiftly thought better of it. Sometimes it was better to swim with the tide rather than against it.

"Okay, I'll see what I can do."

"Remember, Mickey, keep it quiet. Not a word to anyone but me."

No more than a few miles awat at New Scotland Yard, a clipped voice called across the room. "Guv?"

"Yes?" The DCI didn't look up from his new iPhone as he crossed over to her. His son had coerced him into buying it against his better judgement, it was far too complicated for what he needed. He smiled. The boy was canny, or at least thought he was, he knew it would be his before the week was out.

"He's accessed the Fleischmann file again. Do you want me to deny future access?" she asked matter-of-factly.

"Nope." He pressed a button and the screen went blank, he peered at it closely. "What the …?" The DS reached up with easy familiarity to take the foreign device from him, touched a button bringing it back to life and handed it back.

"But-"

"He's the best chance of a lead we're going to have. Let him run with it."

Max thumbed through the pages of notes he'd taken when Manson had left for the Serious and Organised Crime Agency the year before. Endless details of cases, informants and other random pieces of information that had made it clear he had no intention of returning to Sun Hill, no matter how temporary the secondment had purported to be back then. Max had noted with satisfaction at the time that he wouldn't have handed all this if he planned to return, but he didn't ask. Finally he came to what he was looking for and picked up his mobile phone, weighing it in his hand as if it embodied his conscience. The number seemed to dial itself and within seconds it rang.

"Hello?" a smooth voice answered from a train station, judging by the incomprehensible announcement in the background.

"Charlie Hammond?"

"Who wants to know?" the tone wasn't any friendlier.

"Detective Inspector Carter, Sun Hill."

Hammond paused as the station announcer made another attempt at making herself understood. "Ah, Mr Carter, I've been expecting you."

_I'm not bloody 007_, thought Max irritably, _and I doubt very much you are Blofeld, or was that Goldfinger?_ With a mental shrug, he turned his attention back to the man on the other end of the line. "Have you? That's nice. I want to meet. Got a few questions for you."

"About what?"

"I think you probably know."

"Maybe," he replied with a chuckle, relaxing out of character. "Alright, when?"

"No time like the present."

"In a hurry?"

Max bristled at the mocking note in Hammond's voice but chose to ignore it. He needed information from the man, not his good opinion. "Meet me at the bridge over the canal at the end of Ashling Street. You know it?"

"Yeah. I'll see you there, Mr Carter, an hour. Now don't be late." Max cut the call and took a deep breath, shaking his head wondering what he had done to deserve a casino-owning wannabe James Bond villain as an informant.

His exasperation only increased as he left the still haven of his office. The room beyond had filled and with it came a heated tension, although this time it had little to do with the weather. Detective Sergeant Tommy Leighton was leaning over Stevie's desk as she sat back in her chair with her arms folded defensively and Jo stood by her side, equally defensive, verging on the obstructive, Max thought. CID had been short of a DS for some time but Max had deliberately waited, scouring the Met for what he wanted and thankfully Meadows had been too consumed by the attentions of Commander Kennedy to be interested in the politics of personnel. Eventually he found what he was looking for in the form of Leighton. His dark good looks and charming Northern Irish accent were nothing but illusory window dressing, in reality he was tenacious, shrewd and utterly ruthless, almost immoral. Max had long believed Sun Hill CID needed shaking up, to be harder and more focussed on getting the required results rather than being a bunch of wet social workers helping the community, that was best left to uniform in his opinion. CID was there to kick down doors and arrest the bad guys, make then confess and get them banged up. But to do that alone was impossible. He needed an ally, another pair of eyes and ears, and hands. Someone to deliver the unpleasant truths and play a game when it didn't suit Max to do the dirty work himself. Tommy wasn't interested in making friends, which made him ideal, although it had occurred to Max that perhaps he'd better watch his own back as well.

He thought about intervening to settle the squabble, but only for a split second before turning on his heels and silently leaving the kids to it.

"Charlie, this is a surprise."

The man chuckled at the other end of the phone. "Now I don't believe that for a second. I know how you lot operate."

"What is it, Charlie?"

"Your Mr Carter wants to see me."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

"And?"

"I've said I'll meet him in an hour."

"That's good."

"What do you want me to tell him?"

"Answer anything he asks, but er, don't tell him we're still in contact. I want him to think he's running this, for now anyway."

In the narrow strip of shade, Max leant back against the railings overlooking the canal next to the bridge, wondering why he'd agreed to meet Hammond during the hottest part of the afternoon. He watched the passers by in their shorts and t-shirts and thought wistfully of his new 'Family Brown' uniform, even more wistfully of the weekend gone by. The temptation to close his eyes and recall Millie beneath, and above, him was powerful, but the thought of Hammond creeping up on him was enough to keep him alert to the matter in hand. He didn't have long to wait before a snappily dressed man in his sixties descended the steps and took up position at the railings.

"Mr Carter, I presume?"

"Yeah," Max acknowledged with a short upwards jerk of the head, immediately recognising Hammond from an obbo a year or two back.

Hammond regarded him with a degree of amusement for a moment, "shall we, er …" he lifted a hand toward the path alongside the river, suggesting that they take a walk, "you never know who might be watching."

"Are you always this suspicious?"

"I am when I'm talking to the cops."

"You do this often?"

"Only if it suits me."

"Okay, well let's cut the crap, what do you know about Georgie Fleischmann?"

"What do you want to know?" he stopped in mid step and Max stared back at him balefully, this was going to be painful. Hammond raised his hands in askance, "seriously, what do you want to know? Georgie goes back a long way, there's a lot to say about him."

Max tipped back his head and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, perhaps for all his play acting, Charlie was going to be straight with him.

"I want to know what Fleischmann is into and why he needs money."

"Needs money? Where did you get that from?" Hammond glanced sharply at Max.

"Not important."

Charlie shrugged of Max's curt rebuttal of his questions. "Georgie's was on a roll a while back, flashing the cash. Doesn't make sense that he needs money. Although, I noticed he's had an unlucky streak at the tables lately, so maybe …"

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe the spending has been for show, maybe he's in deeper than any of us know about. He bought that girl of his a flash new Porsche and of course he set her up with that massage parlour not long back."

"Massage parlour?"

"Yeah, beauty salon or whatever it is, where the girls go to get their nails done, you know the thing."

Not really, thought Max. Millie occasionally mentioned an extreme form of bikini waxing, but as he stopped listening when she went on to elaborate he didn't know much more about it, other than he liked the result. And as for nails, he was only interested when he could feel them gently scoring his back. Max felt himself drifting with those thoughts, his body temperature rising with them, and had to blink to bring himself back to the less appealing prospect of talking to Hammond who was now studying him with concern.

"Heat getting to you?"

"Er, no… so, there's no sign that he's in trouble?"

"I didn't say that. He's on edge, so my lads have said."

"Your lads?"

"Yeah, a couple of them do a bit for him on the side, I like to know what's going on and my boys are very loyal."

"Go on."

"So, he's had several foreigners in his clubs lately, not just for drinks. Comings and goings into the back rooms, all very hush hush. No one's allowed to ask questions, but each time they come and go Georgie looks a bit paler, a bit quieter."

"Do you know who they are?"

"Nah, they're not local, if you know what I mean."

"No, Charlie I don't know what you mean."

Hammond sighed, "there ain't much humour in you is there, boy?" Max didn't flinch at either the jibe or the derisory tone, leaving the older man without any choice but to continue, if only to bring this unpleasant interview to an end. "Russians, so I believe. A new lot, the last Eastern Euros scarpered a while back after your lot were tipped off. Probably by one of this lot. That's how they work. It's not like the old days …"

"Save the nostalgia, Charlie. You're not in The Krays."

"Now you're wrong there, Mr Carter, I was. Had a walk-on, blink and you'll miss me, but I was there, for authenticity apparently. Actually, I'm a bit of a film buff, in my spare time."

"Really?" mumbled Max, without interest. "But what I would like to know, is why Manson had you down as his go-to man on Fleischmann in the first place. No one else talks about him, why you?"

Charlie grew serious for the first time, taking a deep breath and looking out over the canal. "Because he's had it coming a long time, he made a lot of trouble for me in the past. He's greedy and doesn't know when to stop. And these Russians he's got mixed up with now are a nasty bunch. Had them in the casino the other week," he shuddered, "I don't like to turn away business, but unlike Georgie, I'm not a greedy man and they are trouble I don't want."

"What do you mean?"

"Shooters, Mr Carter, they had shooters. And that's what I believe our Georgie has got himself into. All because he's greedy."

Charlie Hammond's declaration of Fleischmann's greed and whatever it was that they came to blows over niggled alongside the fact that he had stayed clean since his conviction back in '79. Handling stolen goods. He hadn't been inside for long, seven months in the end having squared up as a model prisoner on a first offence. 1979, Max mused. He must have known Richard Brown back then. His fingers twitched over the keyboard. He clenched his fists in an effort from stopping them doing what they so desperately wanted to type, but gradually he lost the battle.

_Richard Brown DOB 24.09.1954_

_14.05.1979 Questioned in respect of handling stolen goods, no charge. _

He cursed inwardly, it wasn't what he wanted to see. Co-incidence perhaps? No, the case numbers matched. No wonder Richard hadn't wanted Max to ask questions, maybe there were still answers to be had. But Max told himself sternly that there was no way Richard could be involved, and even if he had been, it was water under the bridge. The debate raged internally. Requesting this file to be sent to him, it would be a paper file held in archives somewhere, could result in uncovering more than he wanted to but there was no alternative. If there was nothing Max could find in Fleischmann's present, he'd have to go back to the start and work his way forwards.

"Now he's requested the paper file on Fleischmann's conviction, I take it you want him to have it?"

"Yes," the DCI replied with a faint smile, everything was going according to plan.

The Detective Sergeant spun round in her chair to face him sternly. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

He sighed, he'd hoped to avoid explanation until Max had fully taken the bait, but he was nearly there. "Carter is involved with Fleischmann's Goddaughter. She's also in the job."

"I don't understand. Won't that cloud his judgement? It'll be a conflict of interest."

"Not for Max. If anything, it'll make him more determined to prove himself right. And, he'll be able to get closer than we ever could. If he's interested in Fleischmann already, he won't let it go until he brings him down. All we have to do it let him get on with it."

The DS frowned. "But we've put in so much work and you're going to let him-"

"Be patient, Sergeant. There's a long way to go yet."

**Apologies for the lack of Millie, but never fear, she'll be back!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Wednesday – on the beat**

Millie and Sunil crossed to the other side of the street where a sliver of early afternoon shade gave some slight relief to the heat beating down on their uniforms, cooking their bodies inside.

"So, did you get over to your parents over the weekend?"

"Yeah," Sunil replied morosely.

"Same as usual then?"

"Worse. By the time I got there, she had laid out on the dining table the photographs of nine girls from India, all in the market for a husband, all known to the family. She went on to give me chapter and verse on their histories and earning potential. Three trainee doctors, a graduate pharmacist and five IT specialists, I think"

"Ooh, no pressure then! Any of them any good?" Millie joked, hoping to lighten his mood.

Sunil sighed miserably, shuffling his feet along the dusty pavement which was in dire need of a torrential downpour to cleanse away the dirt. "All lacking the right equipment, you know what I mean." Millie gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow in solidarity. There could be little doubt in anyone's mind that Sunil was gay except however in the eyes of his adoring traditional mother who couldn't understand that he didn't plan to get married and provide her with the standard clutch of grandchildren, not in the way she expected anyway. He'd had few relationships, but each had been serious, the most recent being Gary, the plumber turned hairdresser, for whom Sunil had fallen tragically hard and Millie had done her best to help him pick up the pieces of his complicated life. After that, Sunil had followed Millie in transferring to Barton Street and their already firm friendship cemented, much to Max's irritation at another man in her life.

"I know. But it's not as if you haven't told her, haven't you?" she asked quietly.

"Of course! More than once, and it's not as if it's not obvious, is it? Remember, I even took Gary home once to meet them. Once. That was enough to send him running."

"Oh, Su. Never fear, you've got me." At least that brought a weak smile to her dear friend's despondent features although Millie had to wonder how that might change with her engagement. Max wasn't good at sharing.

They stepped along in silence for a few seconds, mulling over the closeness of their friendship, before Sunil made a concerted effort to shrug off his woes. "Anyway, never mind all that. What about your weekend, you didn't call me," he reprimanded her with mock disappointment.

"Only because I was waiting to see you in person!"

"Go on," his eyes widened.

Millie thought she might burst, having told so few people so far. Outside of the family, and Guy, only Becksy and Jasper knew. Becksy whooped for joy and staked her claim as bridesmaid. Jasper told her one of his cousins was a top rate divorce lawyer, for as and when the time came.

"He asked me to marry him. And … I said yes!"

For a split second, Sunil's eyes betrayed a flicker of sorrow, but the instinct to congratulate immediately kicked in. "That's wonderful. Oh Millie, I'm so happy for you." His slight yet wiry frame did its best to envelope her, and the bulky stab vests they both wore, which was not an easy feat, as he kissed her cheek affectionately. "I have to admit though, I did wonder if he was the marrying kind." Millie laughed, having believed the same thing herself until the Saturday before. "So, where's the ring? I hope he already had a ring for you, so much more romantic that way."

"He did and it's beautiful. Perfect. Except that it's too big, so we're going to get it resized this … oh, shit!"

"What?"

"We planned to go to the jeweller this evening to get it altered but I've gone and agreed to work a double today." Millie tutted at her forgetfulness, she felt as though she had been walking on air since the weekend that the jeweller's appointment didn't register when her Sergeant had asked if she would do a double shift. She'd felt so high that she'd probably have agreed to just about anything. "Oh," tutting again in annoyance while fishing out her mobile phone from her pocket and hitting redial, "he's going to be really pissed off," she muttered.

"Hey."

"Hey. You okay?"

"Uh, huh. Drowning in paper, nothing new." Except there was. There were two DCs in the office beyond that he planned to speak to by the end of the day.

"Am I on speaker?"

"Yeah, there's no one here though, I'm filling out forms, multi-tasking. Don't know what you women go on about, it's easy, writing and talking. Damn."

"Not that easy then," she taunted cheekily.

"Watch it," he warned. "You might have to pay for that later."

"Um, yeah. That's why I'm calling. Can you re-arrange the jeweller? It's just that I've agreed to do a double." Millie waited for him to speak, knowing how disappointed he was bound to be. It seemed to matter hugely to Max that she wore his ring, getting it altered had become a consuming priority. "Half the station has gone down with this horrible vomiting bug, Sunil and I seemed to have only avoided it because we weren't in over the weekend, it's pretty desperate over here."

Max sighed, getting this ring on her finger was more work that he though it was going to be. "It's okay," he grumbled, "we can do it tomorrow," he finished with a further exaggerated sigh, for maximum effect.

"Well, actually …"

"Are you doing a double tomorrow as well?"

"Umm …"

"Millie!"

"I could hardly say no, Max. I had the whole weekend off, which by the way I know you pulled strings for."

Max coloured, how he had once written her off as having nothing between the ears was a mystery. Or maybe he was losing his touch at covering his tracks. A slight chill shivered through his body. "Okay, okay. We'll do it Friday then."

"I'm on lates, so it'll have to be early in the afternoon."

"Great, so I'm hardly going to see you at all for the rest of this week."

Millie turned away from Sunil to whisper into her phone, "I'll make it up to you, you know I will. Make a list." At his desk, mile or two away, Max was already on to it.

As she disconnected and swung back round to Sunil, Millie saw that same moment of sorrow once more. And not for the first time, she wondered if his nervousness around Max had less to do with intimidation, and more to do with attraction.

Their route took them close to the Barton Street and Sun Hill border, not so much a no-man's land, but an overlapping territory in which Millie and Sunil frequently found themselves waving to former station-mates as they sped by. The route also took them past 'Beautylicious'. Millie always avoided the salon, wouldn't dream of entering for an appointment and usually crossed to the other side of the road if she could rather than walk directly past it. It belonged to Carly. Carly Fleischmann. Millie could barely think of her without remembering how as a girl, Carly had relentlessly bullied her. Discreetly of course, never in sight or earshot of parents. Sometimes it was physical, the odd pinch or hair-pulling, but more often it was psychological, playing with her insecurities. Millie had been so sensitive to the wish of her father to be close friends with the daughter of his dearest friend that she had never been able to bring herself to confess the mental torture of each dreaded encounter. Carly would always find a way to put her down, she would discover whatever Millie felt most vulnerable about, whether it was spots or her awkwardly developing body as she matured into a young woman. And when there was nothing obvious, it would simply be the colour of her hair, telling her with bitchy menace that she'd never get a sexy man to look at her with her ginger hair, as if it was some sort of vile leprosy-like disease. On some level, Millie had wanted to be like Carly. To have her outward confidence and assurance, to be able to get anything she wanted. Carly didn't like her nose, so she changed it. Her breasts were too small, so she enhanced them, her teeth were not quite straight enough, so she fixed them. All paid for by her doting father, on demand without hesitation. Of course in hindsight, Millie knew this and the bullying were symptoms of a deeply unhappy girl, but Carly's abusive behaviour gave no one the opportunity or inclination to help.

Millie pondered as she walked, the garishly painted salon drawing ever closer. Well, she'd finally proved Carly wrong in one respect. In Millie's opinion, there was no one on the planet who could hold a candle to Max. She smiled to herself. Not only would she not avoid Beautylicious, she'd go in. She'd face her nemesis on her owns terms.

Beautylicious embodied the spirit of Carly Fleischmann. Its gaudy façade, candy pink with gold signage, was a footballer's wife's dream. A curious mix of young girl's bedroom laced with ostentatious vulgarity, screaming money but without a drop of class. It was hugely popular, especially with the aspirant local residents who deemed an orange fake tan and ludicrously long decorated nails as the height of stylish sophistication. Sondra had been in once, to show support, but had declared afterwards that she probably wasn't the clientele Carly was looking for and never repeated the experience.

Just as the pair were about to enter, Sunil's phone rang. He pulled a desperate face and signed. "It's Mum. I'll have to take it otherwise she'll keep calling and it'll get embarrassing again. She called the station last week when I didn't answer and ended up speaking to the Inspector. She made him write down every word of her message." Millie squeezed his arm and left him outside.

"Well! If it isn't PC Plodette!" Carly maliciously announced to the room, garnering sycophantic giggles from her staff at the hilarious joke.

"Hello, Carly." Millie kept he voice steady, refusing to be beaten down, not within the first minute at least. If nothing else, it was cool inside the salon with icy air as unnatural as it inhabitants bursting from the portable air-conditioning machine in the corner.

"Your friend too scared to come in as well?" she gestured dismissively at Sunil standing on the other side of the window, his head bowed in pained submission.

"No, he's just got an important call to take," Millie knew she sounded defensive. It was always the same with Carly.

"So, you here for a makeover? Can't say it's not long overdue," cue ripples of more catty laughter from the pink uniformed girls flanking her.

"Look, Carly, I only came in to say hello, but if you're going to insist on being unpleasant for no good reason, then I don't see any point in wasting my time on you." Millie spoke firmly, her eyes fixed on her bottle blonde opponent, who even by her own standards was looking more pillow-faced than usual. Bad Botox, she thought smugly.

For once, Carly Fleischmann looked shame-faced at her own behaviour, slightly surprised by Millie's standing her ground instead of crumbling at the well-honed taunts tossed her way. But Carly was proud, and she wouldn't completely back down, she would certainly never apologise for anything she did or said, it wasn't in her nature.

"I hear you're still with that copper, what's his name?"

So Georgie hasn't heard about the engagement, thought Millie to herself, he'd have been sure to tell Carly straightaway if he had. She immediately decided against enlightening Carly, there were more deserving people to tell first. "Max, you know it's Max. And yes, we're still together. Living together," Millie couldn't help accentuating that last nugget, even if it felt bitchy. It felt good. The barb hit target as Carly's sneer faltered a fraction. For all her manufactured glamour, Carly had never achieved more than a few weeks with any man. Her chosen victims either couldn't match up to the model of her father or she drove each one away with her incessant demands for attention and servitude. It didn't stop her wanting someone though.

She shrugged, as if it was nothing to her. "Dad doesn't like him. Says you could do better for yourself," her expression explicit that she doubted Millie ever could do better.

"Does he? Well, it's a good thing Georgie's opinion of my love-life isn't important then, is it?" She kicked herself for rising to Carly's bait again.

Carly shrugged again, fiddling with her ridiculous nail extensions, candy pink flecked with gold.

"As long as he doesn't get nosey, we'll be alright I suppose. And anyway, don't expect he'll be around forever. Can't imagine how you've kept him this long."

"I don't know why I've bothered coming in here. I only did because I care about Georgie and know he likes to think we get along. But I can't do this, there's too much good in my life to taint it with your poison. You know Carly, if you're not careful you're going to end up a sad lonely woman with only her wrinkle filling hangers-on for company. Nobody else is going to spoil their day by spending any time with you." The two women stared at each other for a moment. Millie felt shocked by her outburst, which would no doubt be turned round against her, as it always had been since their childhood, but this time she didn't care. Carly's bottom lip quivered, another trick that Millie recognised as being designed to conjure sympathy. Usually it worked and Millie would apologise, but not this time. Being with Max had out of necessity made her stronger and so much more confident. He could overrule her every day if she didn't refuse to allow him the upper hand. If she could resist his dominance, Carly was a walk in the park.

Carly was the first to avert her eyes giving Millie the opportunity to turn and walk away the victor. As she reached the door she heard Carly bark out at her staff, "what are you lot staring at? I want all the treatment rooms and the sun-bed cleaned from top to bottom, this place is disgusting!" Millie couldn't resist a tiny smile at her win over her old enemy.

Later that afternoon, with Millie's prophesy still ringing in her ears, stinging her pride and bruising her ego, Carly left the salon through the rear door to her parked car. She'd prove that boring little nobody wrong. She'd find herself a man and make him marry her. Hopefully she'd also have a chance to split up Millie and Mike, or whatever his name was, in the process, maybe she'd lure him her way. It wouldn't be hard. Too full of her own cruelty, Carly didn't see the masked figures approach her from behind in the dingy alleyway leading to her car. She didn't notice their muffled footsteps. But she did realise something was very, very wrong when her head was forcibly jerked back and the light drained from what she could see at the end of the walkway, until there was nothing at all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Wednesday afternoon, contd.**

Over at the SOCA unit embedded in New Scotland Yard the DCI sat in a swivel chair opposite his DS. She rolled her eyes at his obvious contentment to be reunited with an old friend.

"Not even two days. You didn't even hold out for two days. I wish my father was such a pushover," but the severity of her admonishment was offset by the affection in her tone and the smile on her lips.

"What do I want an iPhone for anyway? This," he waved the near obsolete piece of technology in front of her, "is all I need. Calls, texts and photographs," he smiled to himself recalling the joy on the boy's face when he had flung the box containing yesterday's instrument of torture at him this morning before his mother collected him to return to the home they shared. Within seconds, a sim card had been inserted and he was hard at work downloading various epps or apps or upps, or whatever they were, that would no doubt enhance the kid's life.

"You don't even know what to do with the photographs on that thing when you've taken them. I have to do it for you." He grinned and leant back in the chair lazily. Illnesses and cancelled meetings meant it was an unusually quiet day in an otherwise hectic summer so far.

In response to an email alert, the DS hit a key on her laptop. She frowned, "there's another one at it."

"At what?" the DCI yawned and linked his hands behind his head, this heat and the lack of activity was sending him to sleep. It didn't help that father and son had been making the most of their last night together by watching the entire Star Wars DVD collection well into the early hours. The boy's mother would no doubt pay for that later today. He smiled, feeling a little guilty for sending back an overtired young teenager, but probably not as much as he ought to.

"Information request on Fleischmann, financial records, tax returns, that sort of thing." She scanned the message for what was really relevant.

"Who?" marginally more interested, this was moving.

"A DC at Sun Hill."

"Which one?"

"G. Dassahree," she mispronounced.

He paused. That was a name he hadn't heard in a long while. A person he hadn't thought about in a long while. "Dasari," he corrected quietly. "Grace Dasari." His earlier easy contentment vanished.

* * *

"Grace? Five minutes, in my office. I want to know what you've got."

She replaced the receiver. It was almost the end of the day and she'd been waiting for this for the last couple of hours, torn between hoping he'd be too busy and would forget, but also wishing he'd hurry up and call her in, just so that the ordeal would be over with. It was all getting too much, this dread of Max Carter. It was bad enough when he had been her Sergeant, but as DI Grace found him unbearable. She'd been able to use her intelligence in battle against him back then, once even calling him a little boy who was scared he really wasn't up to the job. Point scored, but it had been the last time. Not long after everything changed. Manson was gone and Carter was at his desk with a deceptively different attitude, except where she was concerned. She knew he hadn't forgotten what she had said that day. And it hadn't gone unnoticed by her that Tommy Leighton had been brought in to do his dirty work, with Max reserving his bullying tactics just for her, as if for his own private amusement. She was going to have to move on and was pretty sure Max wouldn't stand in her way.

"Well?" he barked immediately as she entered his office, file in hand and pulling the door shut behind her. He was forced to admit that she was good, probably more incisive and astute than any other member of the team. But, and this was a big but, she had a window onto his soul that was intolerable. It was one thing for Millie to know his weaknesses, he needed her to know, wanted her to know everything so she could understand and love him anyway, but he didn't need that from Grace. That she had once come so dangerously close to scraping away the veneer and uncovering the truth of him was terrifying. He could have ostracised her, made it clear that he didn't want her in the team so that she would leave. But she was popular with the others and good at her job, she got results through hard work and he couldn't fault that, especially when it made him look good. Besides, away from the fold she might talk and therefore the only thing he could do was to keep her so firmly in her place that she wouldn't have the confidence to chip away at him. Something along the lines of keeping friends close, not that there were many, and keeping your enemies closer, which was rather more to the point. And to Max's satisfaction, it had worked. In fact, it had been easy.

Grace took a breath, drew herself together and sat down opposite him, meeting his stare with as much strength as she could muster. "Okay, Fleischmann was well-financed up until a couple of years ago when his debts suddenly seem to have mounted. He's had significant debts before, re-mortgages, loans, that sort of thing, but has always managed to clear them before they got out of hand. But now, he is mortgaged to the hilt and I can't see that he is getting the kind of income from his businesses to stand a chance of making enough repayments to satisfy the banks. The only asset that is doing well is the daughter's beauty salon, Beautylicious." Grace pulled face akin to eating something sour, showing her distaste at the vulgarity of the name. "The debts started rising shortly after he bought that and put it in her ownership, I imagine so that his creditors can't get at it. I've estimated that the clubs can only be making enough in receipts to pay basic running costs, but that's all." As Grace came to a close, she realised from Max's still expectant expression that he was waiting for more. Her heart sank as his expectancy turned cold, heartless.

"Is that it? Twenty four hours of work to tell me more or less what I already know?" Of course, Max hadn't known all this, but he was in a foul mood, having been stood up by Millie and with an empty evening ahead of him, somebody needed to bear the brunt. Who better?

Indignation flooded Grace, strengthening her intention to be out of Sun Hill as fast as possible. "But this is all we're going to get from banking records and tax returns. Fleischmann clearly isn't playing on the level, he's hardly going to declare illegal income. My guess is that there's got to be cash floating around that isn't going through the books for some reason." _And that's up to you to find out_, she added silently to herself.

Max fixed his gaze on her, silent for a few moments, and although she did her best to maintain the high ground, it was impossible not to shrink under his cold scrutiny.

"Phone records? Have you checked phone records?"

"No, until I know what we are looking for it would be like a needle in a haystack," she countered defensively.

"Well then, you'd better get on with it. I want to know who he is calling, most frequently dialled numbers. I want to know which associates he is talking to. You can rule out the daughter for now though," he added facetiously. "Don't let me down, Grace." The note of intended menace in his voice made Grace bite down on her tongue, if only to stop it lashing out, or more likely, to stop herself from submitting to the angry tears that were already welling inside.

Her jaw was still clenched when she returned to her desk a minute later, her eyes downcast to avoid the sympathetic glances of her colleagues.

"Is he at it again?" asked Terry, but Grace couldn't answer. Tommy Leighton was too close, and even if Terry didn't care about what the new DS thought of him, Grace wasn't prepared to hand easy ammunition over to Max via his lackey. Terry looked back over his shoulder at the spy in their midst and with an air of indifference towards the man, rose from his chair to perch on the edge of her desk. "Why are you putting up with this, Grace? You're letting him bully you. Again." Still Grace said nothing, instead opening her file and reaching for the directory which would give her the details she needed to start work on the telephone records. "Grace! You need to do something!"

That was enough, "Like what? Eh, Terry? What do you suggest? Shall I nip along to the Super's office and say, 'Sir, he's picking on me'? This isn't a school playground," she snapped furiously.

Terry raised his hands to her, surprised by her sudden vehemence. "Okay, I'm just saying …"

Behind him, Grace could see Leighton, sat a couple of desks away, watching them with obvious interest.

"Well 'saying' anything isn't going to help, Terry," she muttered returning to the file. "I know what I'm going to have to do."

* * *

"Guv?" Mickey answered the phone, his mouth full of bacon sandwich. "I was just about to ring you."

"Saved you the trouble then. Where are you?"

"At the caff on Radstock Street, late lunch."

Max grimaced at the thought of the grease Mickey was likely to be consuming at that place. "Stay there, I'm coming over."

Max wished he hadn't arranged to meet Mickey at the greasy spoon café before he even entered it. It confounded him that anyone would want to be inside this airless hellhole, filled with the stench of used cooking fat competing for dominance with the stale aroma of nicotine infused clothing and sweat. Yet it was Mickey's favourite, the best bacon butties in Sun Hill apparently. Max would take his word for it rather than his culinary recommendations. Even Millie's cooking was better than this. Curling his top lip in contempt for where he found himself, Max made his way over to Mickey in the far corner, by the fan circulating the same repulsive air, with a can of Coke and The Sun. He slid into the seat opposite, gaining Mickey's attention.

"Rushed off your feet, Mickey?"

"Like I said, late lunch. I've been doing your leg-work all morning."

Max might not like Mickey very much, but he had to respect that he stood his ground in the face of authority where others crumbled. "And?"

Mickey hesitated for a moment, he didn't want to appear interested in whatever vendetta Max had against Fleischmann, but what he had learnt a couple of hours earlier gave him reason to believe that perhaps there was a chance this time that the man had let down his guard enough to become exposed. And, if that was the case, then Mickey wanted in on it.

"I've an informant whose girlfriend works for Fleischmann at the Parisa Bar, she has done for years. She wasn't that keen to talk but Simon owes me and I convinced her that if Georgie is in some kind of trouble then we can help him-"

"Mickey," warned Max, "I'm not interested in helping him, unless it is on his way behind bars. How many times do I have to tell you lot we are not a bunch of social workers."

"I know, I know, but she wasn't going to give up anything and I sensed she was worried about him, you know?"

Max rolled his eyes at Mickey's tendency to get over involved with his informants. "Go on."

"Anyway, she, Lesley, said that Georgie has had his ups and downs over the years, but this is the longest she's been paid in cash, normally wages all go through his accountant's payroll system. The bars are making enough she thinks, but he's taken over banking the takings and is really secretive about it. It's made her wonder where the money is going.

"Is he being blackmailed?"

"I asked her that, she thinks it's a possibility but what she's more concerned about are the Russians."

"Russians?" Max thought back to Hammond's belief that Eastern Europeans were involved somewhere in Fleischmann's dealings. Close enough.

"Yeah. Russians. Several of them coming and going, boxes in and out of the storerooms. No questions allowed. Almost as if they have taken over the place. He still owns it but it's like they have free reign to do whatever they want and he can't stop them. He calls them his friends, but the staff are talking about some kind of protection racket going on. It's got me thinking that maybe these Russians are using Parisa, and maybe his other places, as cover for whatever they are up to."

"Any idea what?"

"Nah, but it's got to be drugs, smuggling or guns. I can't think of what else it's likely to be."

"Prostitution?" Max prayed this wouldn't be the case. He'd been too close to that line of activity when he was undercover, he never wanted to be near it again.

"Doubt it, unless the girls are in the boxes. But it's a possibility I suppose. Not Georgie's line of work. He genuinely cares about the girls that work for him. Lesley said he treats them really well. Same can't be said of his daughter though," Mickey chuckled. "Lesley ain't got a good word for her."

She's not alone, though Max wryly. "So, where have these Russians come from?"

"Now there's the mystery. No one knows. They suddenly appeared one day and moved in. Lesley overheard, she's a bit nosey like that, something about debts but she didn't get more than that."

Max nodded slowly as he tapped his fingers on the table top, piecing together the strands of information. "Smuggling, maybe. But my money is on guns. If it was drugs we'd know about it through the dealers we've brought in lately. There would have been talk of new suppliers. That's good work Mickey, good work, but it's not enough. Keep digging, I want to know who these Russians are. Get your Lesley to give us a name."

Mickey opened his mouth to object, knowing that he'd really had to push Lesley to get this much out of her, but closed it again. There was no point in arguing with Carter when he was this fixed on getting a result.


	7. Chapter 7

Well, it's been a least a couple of chapters without any raunch & we can't have that, can we? For Feebee. Also, hello to Jane & Celia.

* * *

The room was lit by one side lamp and the muted television screen when Millie stepped back into the flat shortly after midnight and much earlier than she had expected to be. Her Inspector had found another officer to share her second shift of the day and she might have believed him had he not looked quite so shifty when she voiced her surprise. A conversation about all this string pulling was well overdue, but not tonight. She was tired and felt filthy from the grime of the street and her own sweat from the heated day turned sultry night. Surely this weather had to break soon. Surely the promised rain would come tomorrow.

He was laid out on the sofa wearing only his boxer shorts, one arm draped off the edge of the seat towards the open but dead laptop, almost as if he had fallen asleep in mid-type hours earlier. The other arm lay across his chest, holding his heartbeat within the palm of his hand. She stopped and listened for a moment to his gentle snoring, his head tipped back and lips parted. In bed, she'd nudge him, or kick him depending on the volume, but for now it was a most beautiful noise, peaceful. He was such a different animal when at rest. It was such a pity that no one else ever saw it. It was probably a good thing. She thought about waking him, but couldn't bring herself to do it just yet. Besides Millie was certain that she wasn't a pretty sight, or smell, right now and he might wonder if he'd slipped from tranquillity into nightmare. Instead she took herself off to shower, and maybe revive. After all, there was the little matter of her debt to settle.

When she returned it was obvious that he had woken. Hip lips were now closed, with the lower jutting out in that way she found utterly disarming, even when others saw only arrogance. It looked like there were a few more cushions behind his head, so he was rather more upright and had certainly shifted over to the back of the sofa, giving her space to sit beside him. Millie bit her lip to quash a giggle at his connivance. She'd make him wait a little longer. A couple of glasses and plates lay next to the dishwasher, she knew she wasn't alone in wondering how it was a man could take dirty things to the machine, but never actually manage to put them in there without being told to. One of life's mysteries, she'd concluded.

Having loudly stacked the dishwasher, with extra sighs to accompany the clatter, Millie decided to bring an end to her torment and made her way back to the sofa. She wore only a shirt, buttoned once at the waist. His shirt from that day, found carelessly tossed on their bed. She liked to wear his clothes, it made her feel closer to him, to be enveloped in his scent, the fabric having literally absorbed part of him. She told him this once and, deadpan, he had replied that he felt the same way in her clothes. For a moment, she had panicked at the image he brought to mind, before he had tousled her hair and with that rare grin of his, told her not to be so gullible.

Smoothly she glided down to perch by his waist, her thighs parting a little as she twisted to face him, noting the slight change in his breathing in response. His body had changed in the last few weeks, less sharply defined, a little softer, the result of it being too hot to run combined with the relative inactivity of his Inspector status. He had grumbled about it but Millie didn't mind, she loved him and it made him surprisingly cuddlier. Not that being told so had done much to improve his mood. She leant forward slightly to brush over that fleshy lower lip with the pad of her thumb, he breathed deeply, relaxing into her touch, allowing her more of him to caress. The tips of her fingers trailed down his stubbled cheek, along the jaw line and down his neck. She could feel his excitement in the quickening pulse beneath the surface of his heated skin, she didn't need to look along his body to see its outward evidence. Her own breathing reflected the fluttering in her stomach and the growing need lower still. She shifted on the sofa in an attempt to assuage the sensation and her movemnt seemed enough to slowly half open his eyes. A small grunt escaped from his throat, giving voice to his appreciation of the image above him. Millie felt the possession in his eyes reaching into her, gripping her and drawing her to him.

His nostrils flared as the light vanilla perfume on her cleansed skin mingling with her own musky scent assailed him. A primeval male response to her arousal, fuelling his own. He wondered if he could ever get enough but the sight that greeted him made him swallow, as ever the picture was an arresting mixture of innocence and seduction. The white shirt, milky skin but then that glorious, sensuous red hair, casually clipped up except for the damp tendrils which escaped and fell free of restraint. He lifted a hand to her neck and slowly, silently, slid it down inside the shirt over her collar bone, his gaze following his progress with each revealed inch delighting his senses evermore, pushing the fabric aside and widening it to a deep v that ended a little below her waistline. His palm brushed, then cupped her breast, the soft weight deliciously heavy in his hand, a thumb flicked at a nipple, back and forth, before the hand reached its first destination to deftly unfasten the button and sweep away remaining obstruction to his view.

She knew where he was heading and as much as she longed for him to get there and work his magic, it was just too soon. "I'm sorry if I woke you," she whispered, sitting back and lifting his hand to her lips to kiss each fingertip.

"I'm not," a smile forming at the corners of his mouth.

"Good day?" she switched to his other hand.

"Average. Hot. Too much bickering. The usual." The words left his mouth but almost without conscious knowledge, so absorbed was he in the sight and sensation of her lips and tongue working, swirling, sucking on each of his fingers, letting each agonisingly slowly fall from her lower lip one by one, gasping with pleasure as she took both hands to place them on her breasts while she leant down to him again with a devilishly wicked smile.

"Let me take your mind off things then," she murmured into his ear before gently nipping at the lobe.

Her lips hovered above his, he could have lifted his head the merest fraction and he would have caught them, but instead he waited, his eyes all but closed in supine anticipation, nostrils flaring again as the scent of her arousal reached him once more. Millie studied him beneath her, cocking her head to one side as she rested on her forearms either side of his head. She touched the very tip of her tongue to his upper lip, lifting it once, then again, and again, daring his urgent response. He swallowed again, she was pushing him close. She dipped again to barely catch his lower lip in her teeth, pulling upwards as she gently drew back, then releasing her grip and setting him free. With a ragged breath he lifted eyelids heavy with desire for the creature above him and met her hypnotic gaze. From somewhere he found the strength in his arms to lift his hands, burrowing his fingers into hair and pulling her down to him, taking back control in a deep kiss that seemed to go on forever until finally both needed to break for air.

"As much as I enjoy making out with you on the sofa like a couple of kids," he murmured breathlessly, "why don't we don't we go to bed?" Anxious to let her continue with her seduction of him, he peeled away from under her and started to sit up on the sofa, grimacing as his back creaked painfully.

"Old man," she teased, turning to run the heel of her hand down his spine, causing him to groan in response and arch his back, eyes closing.

"Yeah, well. Still young enough to keep you satisfied."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Bed, now... ohhh, yesss, do that again."

* * *

"I'd better take this call or she'll just keep ringing."

Millie stood on the sun baked step of Beautylicious, ready to enter, and looked back at her colleague, frowning in confusion. What was Nate Roberts doing here? She didn't work with him anymore. Where was Sunil? Her brows knitted together in bewilderment but the ringing didn't stop.

"Well go on then," it was her voice, but she did feel like she was talking, only watching.

"What?"

"Answer it."

"Uh?"

"Answer it."

"Uhhhh."

The bright light of the afternoon sun darkened until all that was left were the narrow slivers of moonlight piercing the room through gaps in the wooden blinds. She blinked, slowly coming to terms with where she was and where she wasn't.

"Max, answer the phone," she groaned, prodding him sharply in the back.

"What? Ohh …" He fumbled on the bedside table for the telephone, his thumb blindly searching in the dark for the green answer button.

"Carter," he mumbled, partially into the pillow, struggling to rouse consciousness from his heavy post-coital slumber.

"Not you! I don't want you."

"Eh?" The voice was familiar, angry and perhaps panicked, but his sexually sated brain couldn't place who it was.

"Millie!" the voice snapped aggressively. "I want to talk to Millie!"

"Who are …? Oh, whatever … whatever … it's for you …" he passed the phone over his shoulder, dropping it into the narrow valley between their bodies.

"What?"

"It's for you," he mumbled into the pillow.

Millie grumbled, her legs tangled in the bed sheet and she fought to kick them free so she could sit up and find the handset, now wedged under him.

"Yes … hello?"

"She's disappeared."

"Who … who is this?"

"It's Georgie, Millie. Carly's gone missing … I don't know what to do."

"Georgie?" Still half asleep, it took Millie a moment to put together the voice and name. Max's eyes flew open. His previously fugged brain immediately back on full alert, listening intently without moving a muscle for fear of missing something. That voice, he knew he recognised that voice. "Georgie, calm down. What do you mean she's gone missing?"

"I don't know what to do, Millie!" Georgie's agitation threatened to spill over into full scale panic.

"Georgie, breathe, take it slowly. What's happened?"

"She always takes my calls. Always returns my messages. Straightaway. But I've called her at least a dozen times and she hasn't answered or got back to me and now her phone is going straight to voicemail. Something's happened to her I know it. I've called St Hugh's but they haven't got her. I …" his voice faltering weakly, "I didn't know who else to call. Millie? Help me."

"Georgie, it's …" Millie peered at the digital clock on Max's bedside table, "gone half past three in the morning. Are you sure she isn't in bed?"

"No! I'm in her flat now, she's not here!"

"Maybe she's out with friends?" Millie privately wondered if Carly had any friends, probably only those orange-hued hangers on with the same ambition of snaring a middle league football player, or similar. Some weren't so fussy. "Have you called her friends?"

"I don't have their numbers apart from one or two. No one's seen her, the girls at the salon haven't seen her since she left early either."

"She left early?"

"Yes, about four, Nadine said. Why?"

"Oh, no reason," Millie chewed her lower lip, a little guilt creeping in. Had Carly disappeared because of what she had said? "It's just that I dropped in earlier to say hello."

"How was she?" the desperation for any information clear in his tone.

Rude and unpleasant, thought Millie. "Well, umm, the same as usual I suppose." They both fell silent for a moment, Millie with her fledgling remorse and Georgie with worry. "Look, she's probably just lost her phone or had it stolen and hasn't realised yet. Or maybe it's run out of battery and she can't recharge it. It's only been a few hours, give her a bit longer."

"She always calls me, she always lets me know where she is and what she is doing," he spoke with such fervour that Millie had to believe him. Carly and Georgie were always close, her mother's death had formed a bond between the two that most would find suffocating, but it suited them. Albeit to the terminal detriment of any other relationship that either ever entered into. Maybe that was it, maybe for the first time, Carly needed a bit of space. Maybe Millie's tirade had made Carly question herself, although Millie couldn't believe that even Carly would be so purposefully cruel to her father by putting him through this.

"I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, I'm sure she'll turn up in the morning and be really sorry for not calling you, but if it will make you feel like you're doing something, then telephone the station and report her missing. She's likely to be assessed as low risk I'm afraid, but her details will be circulated and if she doesn't get in touch tomorrow … well … I'll call you in a few hours. If there's no news, I'll do everything I can ... and so will Max, her flat is on Sun Hill's patch." Georgie hesitated, whether it was from digesting what Millie had said or from her mention of Max she couldn't tell.

"She's my little girl. All I've got," Millie had to press the receiver to her ear to hear his quiet voice filled with despair.

"I know. I'm sure she's fine, but perhaps she wants a bit of space, I know I do sometimes. Try to get some rest, I'll call you in the morning and you know what? I bet she'll be at your place, demanding breakfast or something." She hoped that might encourage him to be positive, draw a chuckle even. As far as she knew, Carly was never up early enough for breakfast.

But, his response was flat. "Yeah, maybe. I hope so."

Millie disconnected the call and awkwardly climbed back over Max to replace the handset.

"Why did you say you need space," Max aimed for nonchalance as she flopped back beside him with a loud sigh, but it was only camouflage for the constant underlying dread that one day she would leave him.

"Doesn't everyone? I don't mean I need to go on holiday alone for two weeks, or take a break, it's just sometimes I like to maybe do the food shopping on my own, or go swimming, gives me a chance to think, that's all."

"About what?" He raised himself up onto one elbow to look down at her, his eyes straining in the darkness but needing her reassurance.

"Nothing and everything. You, me, us, Mum, Dad, Tara and now Guy," she grimaced up at him. "Shoes, whether to cut my hair short again-"

"Don't you dare."

Millie laughed softly and ran a finger lightly over his collar bone. "Okay. But just because I like to have a bit of space, doesn't mean I'm unhappy. I've never been happier." She brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead and that seemed to be enough to draw the subject to a close. He dropped down onto his back and pulled her over to rest her head on his chest.

Insecurity dealt with, he decided to tackle the other matter that had weighed heavily on his mind these past couple of days. "So, what was that all about?"

"Carly's gone missing, according to Georgie. He's in a real state, but she'll be off with friends, I'm sure …"

"You don't sound very sure."

"It's just they are so close that I can understand why he's worried, it's pretty out of character for her, but maybe she's met someone and lost track of time."

"Hmm. Is that all?"

Millie paused, she couldn't help believe that she might be responsible. "I went into the salon this afternoon to say hello but she was her usual horrible self and I said some things I wish I hadn't now."

"Like what?"

"Oh, along the lines of if she wasn't nicer then she'd end up being a sad lonely old woman who no one wanted to be with. Maybe it's my fault she's gone off the radar."

Max's laughter rumbled through his body. "That's hardly likely to tip someone like Carly over the edge, Millie. Now, calling your future fiancé cold and unpleasant while stuck in a broken lift would be a different matter." Millie gave him a hard pinch and raised her head to deliver a stern glare. "Ow!"

"I don't think _you_ are in a position to bring up past demeanours, are you?" But she ended with a little smile and collapsed back down to his body, breathing in the scent of his skin that she loved so much.

The lovers lapsed into silence, only their breathing punctured the stillness of the room. Max knew Millie was still pondering her guilt and pulled her tighter. She clung to him despite the muggy heat of the night that would normally drive them apart. Eventually though, her exhaustion prevailed and she succumbed to sleep still draped across his chest. Max wasn't so lucky, unable to switch his mind off the Fleischmann affair, distractedly twirling a long lock of her hair round and round his fingers as he mulled over what he knew so far. Where was Carly? Had she disappeared or simply having a night on the town, oblivious to the worry she was causing? If she had disappeared, either intentionally or against her will, was she also mixed up in her father's illicit dealings? He couldn't help thinking if that were to be the case, Carly might just be the 'in' that he needed to break Georgie. But Georgie hadn't mentioned to Millie that he was in trouble and that there could be a reason for Carly's silence. Surely if he suspected his associates might be involved he would have done. Unless … unless he was too scared, too scared to think straight.


	8. Chapter 8

Carly tried to open her eyes but something kept them firmly shut. After a few seconds of trying, and quite possibly doing irreparable damage to her eyelash extensions, she gave up. Speaking was another impossibility with what felt like plastic tape across her mouth. The best she could manage was a wailing grunt from her throat which was painfully raw. She needed a drink, she needed to sit up. That was when the panic started to set in as she realised this wasn't a dream, or even a nightmare. This was real, she wasn't in her own bed, nor was she anywhere that felt remotely familiar. Her breathing accelerated, her heart pumping wildly but she was stronger than that and from within she forced the panic to subside, concentrating hard on each breath. She was no damsel in distress, whoever was responsible for this was going to pay, big time. Her wrists were bound behind her back although her legs had been left untied. She managed to shuffle around until her feet his something solid and gave it a hefty strike with her heels. It made a loud hollow sound. She struck it again, and again, and again. Eventually she heard a door open and stopped, replacing the noise with the only sound she could make from her body venting her frustration and anger. Footsteps followed, drawing closer. As they did she smelt the same odour as before, frantically she tried to wriggle away from it tossing her head as best she could but a hand clamped down on her and suddenly there was pressure on her nose from a damp pad, she tried not to breathe but with her mouth taped there was no choice and within moments she felt herself disappear into nothing once again.

-oOo-

"Now, that's what I call criminal," a fire officer sidled up to Ben, mournfully gazing at the smouldering heap of metal.

"Eh? Well of course it is. It's a burnt out car," replied Ben dismissively, looking back down at his notes.

"No, that's not what I mean. That, my friend, is a Porsche 911. A thing of beauty, or at least it was until someone sprayed it pink. I suppose torching it could be taken as an act of kindness, putting it out of its misery."

"Pink Porsche? I've seen one of those somewhere. Can't be many of them about."

"I hope not. Well, here's your chassis number, track it from that and find whoever was responsible, for the spray job at least."

Ben took the piece of paper from the fire officer and pocketed it, it was nearly time for refs and this could wait until they got back to the station.

Max eyed the two PCs in front of him, blocking his way back to his office. Holding his coffee, he glared at their backs while they meandered slowly along the corridor, others rushed past in the other direction, some averting their eyes when they caught the irritation in his. Each wondered how Ben and Nate had failed to feel their backs burning. He was about to bark at them to stop wasting time and hurry up when he was stopped in his tracks.

"Carly Fleischmann … Fleischmann?" mused Nate out loud. "Isn't she the daughter of Georgie Fleischmann? Owns the Parisa Bar, doesn't he?"

"Oh yeah!" exclaimed Ben, giving Nate a slap to the arm, as if blaming him for his memory loss. "I knew I'd seen the car round here before. Just couldn't remember where. But that's it. I've seen it parked up outside," Ben confirmed. "This'll be fun," he added, grimacing. "She is a nightmare from what I've heard. Toss a coin to decide who gets the pleasure of telling her?"

"Tell her what?" interrupted Max impatiently.

"Eh? Oh, umm …" Ben spun round, his mouth gaping for a moment before pulling himself together. "Well, we've found her car. It's been torched out on the Larkmead Industrial Estate."

"When?"

"About an hour ago?"

"And you didn't call it in then?"

"It's only the car, no evidence of anyone inside or injured. We came back to the station to track the car from the chassis number, and besides it's still early. Who wants this kind of news before they've had a chance to wake up? It hasn't even been reported stolen yet."

"No, but its owner has been reported missing."

"Oh, er …"

"I don't suppose it occurred to you to check that?"

"Umm …"

Max continued to glare at Ben, Nate stood mutely by his side trying to think of something to say in their defence.

"I don't want the car moved or touched until I get Eddie down there. Do you think you could manage that? Or shall I get the canteen staff to have a go at your jobs?"

"Sir," Nate and Ben muttered, as Max continued on towards the stairs, the view of his retreating back effectively dismissing them to their task.

"Well, that went well. I guess he isn't getting much from Millie at the moment," murmured Nate.

"Yeah, but on the bright side, at least we don't have to break the news to Miss Fleischmann that her car has been stolen and burnt out."

"Millie?"

"Hmmm?" Millie mumbled sleepily into the handset. "What time is it?"

"Nearly seven."

"Ohhh, not fair … why?"

"It's Carly, Millie. We've found her car. Abandoned and torched."

Millie sat bolt upright at the news, immediately awake. "And Carly? Any sign of her?"

"No, I'm sorry. It's looks like Georgie was right to be worried. How would you feel about meeting me at his place to tell him? I'll square it with whoever is on duty at Barton Street, to release you for the day." _Longer, if necessary,_ he thought to himself.

"Yeah … yeah of course! Oh God, Max, he's going to be beside himself."

Having arranged to meet Max on a side street close to Georgie's home, Millie threw herself out of bed and straight to the window to pull up the blinds. It had rained, but not enough. Instead of washing away the grime, the street beyond was just as dirty as before, rivulets of rainwater had dried leaving sludgy tracks down the glass. She opened a window in an effort to let in some morning freshness but the air outside was still heavy despite the earliness of the day. She frowned at the street beyond, cars zipping by, life going on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She'd had to tell victims' parents worse things than this before, but never anyone close to her. But, there was still no evidence that anything had happened to Carly, she told herself firmly. She could well still be out there, her handbag stolen perhaps, keys and phone gone and blissfully unaware, perhaps in bed with her latest unlucky prey. Yes, that was it. She didn't believe a word of her own argument.

Max was already waiting for her, leaning back against his car, when she pulled up to the kerb. He looked at her grimly before pushing himself off from the car to walk towards hers, his hands shoved firmly into his trouser pockets. She watched him approach the passenger side with a sense of foreboding, he clearly didn't believe that Carly was safe any more than she did. Sliding in beside her, Max leant across to squeeze her fingers resting on the gear stick.

"You okay?"

Millie nodded tightly, biting into her lower lip. "Any news?"

"Nah, nothing." The worry etched across Millie's features caught him off-guard. It wasn't the same worry that he'd seen her show when dealing with strictly work-related cases, this was different. Ultimately, whatever happened at work had to stay there, for the sake of everyone's sanity. Whatever the outcome of this, and Max feared it wouldn't be a happy one, nothing would be the same again. Suddenly he found himself in uncharted territory, struggling to work out how to balance his personal relationships with his own private agenda. Snatching his hand away, he sat back in the seat and focussed on the road ahead. "Let's go." He didn't mean to sound so short, so curt. He didn't mean to make her purse her lips and furrow her brow in confusion at his sudden change in demeanour. He didn't mean to sound as if he was talking to any other member of his team. But he did. And he realised that he didn't know how not to. This was why working with Millie had never been a good idea, he didn't know how to relate to her on a professional level or how to give instruction without causing hurt that would inevitably follow them into their home and life away from all this. But this time, there really was no alternative. Nobody else could be the eyes and ears he needed, however unwittingly the information might be provided.

In awkward silence, they travelled the short distance to Georgie's house, hidden behind high brick walls and wrought iron gates on Canley's answer to East Finchley's Millionaires' Row. Like his business ventures, it exuded affluence, if not style. Mock Georgian, faux Palladian, however its architect might have described it and no doubt charged for it. Had it been allowed to age gracefully the house might have been excused, but every inch of the 'grounds' was rigorously sandblasted and manicured in the pursuit of superficial perfection. Millie had often compared it to her own childhood home, similar size and made up of the same ingredients but yet a home, comfortable and lived in with memories saturating every room. Chips in the door frames where she and Tara had ridden their bicycles indoors when her mother was out, egged on by their father, a few cracked floor tiles when toys had literally been thrown out of prams and at each other. But there was none of that in the Fleischmann household. No such living had ever taken place there.

"Yes?" Georgie's anxious voice called out from the speaker on the gate.

"Georgie, it's Millie. And Max," she added hesitantly. "Can we come in?"

"Oh … er … yes. Yes."

The gates swung open and Millie pulled forward, looking across to Max for his reaction to the house. He returned her glance with eyebrows raised, the tension between them dissipating. "Nice place," he ventured weakly, raising a small smile from her in response. Seeing Georgie appear at the door, Max made to get out of the car but Millie caught his shirt sleeve and tugged him back. "Let me tell him. It's better if I do the talking… please?"

Max stalled for a moment, he'd only intended for Millie to hold the man's hand, to be a sympathetic shoulder to lean on, make the tea and listen out for anything that would lead him to the Russians' operation. Reluctantly though he nodded, he had to admit that she would be far better skilled at this.

"Tell me! Have you found her? Where is she?"

"Georgie, let's go inside. Come on." Max attempted to guide Georgie by the elbow towards the open front door but the older man shrugged him away angrily.

"Georgie, please," pleaded Millie, "let's go inside." He looked at her beseechingly, imploring her for good news before dropping his head and leading them inside. She felt almost sick with her sorrow, watching this normally vital man so reduced, knowing that his pain would only get worse before it got better.

Max looked around the room he took them into. Even to his philistine eye, it looked expensive. A baby grand piano lounged in the corner of the room, art filled the walls and photographs of Georgie and Carly, either together or with figures of varying celebrity, in elaborate silver frames cluttered every surface. Max peered at one of Georgie beaming into the camera with a confused looking Margaret Thatcher at his side. He raised his eyes to the ceiling but caught Millie watching him censoriously on the way back down. Chastened, he sank into an overstuffed armchair opposite the pair and instantly regretted it. His back would never let him get up without complaint. With trademark stoniness, he let Millie do the talking while he fixed his attention on Georgie, watching intently for the slightest reaction that would tell him more than his words were likely to.

"Georgie," Millie began softly, taking one of his hands in hers, "Carly's car has been found. It's been burnt out." Georgie looked up at her in horror, prompting Millie to continue quickly. "It doesn't necessarily mean that something terrible has happened to her, she could walk in at any time, but it seems the keys were in the ignition, which suggests that they were at least stolen or-"

"Someone's taken her as well," he finished hollowly.

"It's a possibility, bearing in mind that you haven't heard from her since yesterday," agreed Millie quietly, wondering how to phrase her next question, considering her own relationship with Carly. "Is there any reason that someone could want to harm her?"

"No! Everybody loves my girl. Not an enemy in the world." Max watched as Millie bit her lip at his fatherly delusion.

"And what about you?" Millie glared at Max, but he ignored her. Better that he ask the awkward questions, the man disliked him anyway. "Is there anyone who might want to … let's say … send you a message?"

Georgie returned Max's stare indignantly, but beneath it Max was certain he could see fear. "Of course not. I'm an honest businessman. I may have upset a few people along the way but nobody who would ever resort to kidnapping my child." The heightened emphasis in his denial only serving to fuel Max's suspicion.

"She's not a child though is she? She's a grown woman and I can't help wondering if she might have wanted out of all this," he waved to the room, "to get away from you. Live a life of her own, perhaps."

"Max!" reprimanded Millie sharply. She glowered at him angrily, demanding his apology but was given only a cold shrug in return.

"You know nothing about Carly and me. How could you? From what I've heard about your family …" If Georgie had hoped to rile Max he was disappointed. He remained calmly impassive, leaving Millie to take up his defence.

"Georgie, that's not fair. Both of you, this isn't helping." She felt herself caught in the crossfire between the two when their energy should be directed towards finding Carly. "We need to know what happened to Carly after she left the salon," she persisted while the two men continued to stare at each other until suddenly Georgie broke the stalemate.

"CCTV!"

"What?"

"There're three cameras at the back of the salon," Georgie ignored Max's question and turned to Millie to explain his outburst, "I had them installed when Carly took the lease. I didn't want her to, the back of that unit is dingy and there's a dark alley that leads to where she parks her car, but she insisted. So, I had a camera put in at the back door, at the end of the alley and above her parking space. Just in case …" he trailed off realising that 'just in case' had actually happened.

"Where are the tapes?"

"In the salon, at the reception desk."

For Max, the time had come to bear the pain. Wincing, he pushed himself forward. "Right, I'll get over there now and check it out. I'll need the keys and alarm code though," he glanced at his watch, being only a little after eight, he guessed Carly's staff wouldn't be there yet.

"There's a spare set in the safe, I'll get them." Georgie rose and slowly walked to the back of the room while Max deliberately avoided Millie's attempts to silently catch his eye. Max tried hard to suppress a small smile when the keys were delivered into her hands, Georgie really didn't like him. Good. His smug reflection however was immediately cut short by the annoyance in Millie's glare.

"Millie, do you … er ... want to hang on here for a while?" he asked, rising from the edge of his chair.

"Yes, that is if you want me to, Georgie? I'll call Mum, I'm sure she'll come straight over and stay with you so that I can get over to Sun Hill. I can keep you updated that way." Mutely, he nodded, staring into space. She touched his arm in comfort as she rose to follow Max out into the reception hall.

"Was that really necessary? I thought you were going to let me do the talking," Millie hissed as Max reached the front door.

"What?" He turned and looked down at her with feigned innocence, reaching into his pocket for his keys.

"Goading Georgie like that? Saying that Carly might have wanted to escape from hm. The man is distraught and you just stuck the knife in even further."

"It might be true. Who knows what's going on here," he answered obstinately.

"Well it was a low thing to say to him now. Can't you see how he is? Doesn't any part of you feel for what he is going through?"

"It's not my job to hand out the tea and sympathy, Millie. It's my job to find Carly and if she has been abducted, then also why and by whom." Millie's eyes narrowed slightly at the last part of his justification. Something in it triggered her suspicion that perhaps he wasn't telling her everything. Max realised his error and swiftly continued to cover his tracks, "I'm sorry if I was being insensitive," he cupped her cheek, distracting her thoughts for just long enough. "Tell him I'm sorry, will you?" Millie's brown eyes connected with his, her desire to trust almost too much for his conscience to bear. "I'm going to go and get these tapes. Good idea to get your mother to come over. Meet me back at the station? Don't rush though, take all the time you need here." And with only the quickest kiss, he was gone. Walking out through the gates to his car left on the adjacent street with his phone held to his ear. Millie sighed, took out her own phone and dialled. "Mum? It's me. Listen, something awful has happened. Can you …"


	9. Chapter 9

Carly groaned. Her neck was in agony from lying in an awkward position for what felt like hours but to her intense relief she found herself able to move her arms, her wrists no longer bound although they were still painfully sore. The world however was still black and her mouth taped. It took a moment longer before she realised that she didn't have to stay that way and urgently wrenched at first the blindfold and then the tape gag. She blinked frantically, even the dim light of the room hurt her eyes, delaying her reprieve from the dark. Deliberately taking deep breaths through her mouth to slow her heartbeat she slowly began to open her eyes for long enough to take in her surroundings, not that the view lifted her spirits much. Her makeshift cell was small, made even smaller by the dozen or so large crates carelessly stacked against the walls. The walls themselves were filthy, marked with damp and mildew stains. A window, closed and no more than a foot square, was at the top of one wall but again so covered in grime that it let in little light and no air. The only other light came in through the obscured glass panel in the door. Finally having at least summoned enough strength to sit she pushed herself up to lean back against a crate and take stock of what had happened. As best she could anyway, considering that she had no idea what had happened, or why.

Rubbing her aching wrists and mulling over the possibilities while surveying the contents of the room, she saw a bucket sized dustbin with lid, something like a child might have as a wastepaper bin, topped with a roll of loo paper. She wrinkled her nose in disgust at the prospect but deciding that need was greater than dignity, she tried to stand, but her body was so stiff from her forced confinement that all she could manage to do was crawl towards the bucket. Having relieved herself she crawled back to the only form of comfort, such as it was, the stained mattress. It was then she noticed the sandwiches and litre bottle of water by the side. She picked up the packet. At least they were M&S and not Tesco shit, she mused, ripping open the environmentally sustainable packaging.

-ooOoo-

Grace sat in her car, coffee in hand contemplating the day ahead. Today was the day she would take back control of her life and career and stop being his favourite victim, she would send off that completed application to HR. Having spoken to a couple of members of the team in Special Ops, she was confident of success, a 'shoe-in' she had been told. She had been appreciated there, and knew she could rely on excellent references from Meadows and Heaton, even if they weren't so forthcoming from Carter and Manson. Grace rarely thought of Neil these days, it all seemed so long ago that she had made those tentative efforts to reach out, to be more than a work colleague or even a friend. It wasn't as if he had rebuffed her, he hadn't even noticed and that was worse, leaving her hurt and isolated. She reflected that life under Manson hadn't in the end been much better than it was during Carter's regime to date. He had constantly belittled her work and questioned her judgement despite the occasional moments of connection which made each subsequent dismissal especially painful. When he announced his departure, everyone else had joked that he'd never be back, and they were right. But he froze her out, he didn't joke or reminisce with her as he did with the others. Didn't offer to stay in touch. Watching him recall episodes of hilarity with Stevie had been particularly upsetting, something about having wanted to be a magician. She realised then that she knew nothing about him. He could loosen up with the others, but not with her it seemed.

Her phone rang, shaking her from the despondency of her reverie. Glancing at the display she sighed and answered.

"Guv?"

"Well you sound full of the joys of Spring," he taunted sarcastically. "Where are you?"

"Outside Costa Coffee."

"Good, that's only around the corner. Get yourself over to Beautylicious, I'll meet you there."

-ooOoo-

"Right, you look in the back," Max ordered sharply.

"What am I looking for?"

"You are like a bloody broken record sometimes. Don't you have any initiative any more, Grace? I want you look for anything that seems out of place, not as if it should be … er … somewhere like this," he waved a hand, suddenly awkward as if he had only just realised where he was.

Grace had to hold in a little smile of satisfaction, it was a long time since she had seen him look quite so uncomfortable. Clearly he wasn't the type to head into a beauty salon for a quick facial. Or maybe he was, maybe his secret was the back, sack and crack, as Mickey might put it. "Like what? Maybe you should come and look with me," she couldn't resist acting a bit dumb, it didn't seem to matter what he thought anymore, and forcing him to dig himself deeper gave her a lift.

"Er … no, I'm going to get the CCTV and check out the diary and … er … things here. Anyway, you'll know better than me what goes on back there."

Grace wondered if that was what passed for a compliment, albeit a typically 'Carter' misogynistic one.

Without bothering to watch Grace disappear into the mysterious and slightly frightening hinterland of the salon, Max turned his attention to the reception area. Just as Georgie had indicated, the machine and discs for the CCTV were held inside an unlocked cabinet at the reception desk. He hit the button to eject the current disc and then rummaged around in the cabinet, pulling out various boxes, all unmarked. "Amateurs," he muttered derisively. He hadn't expected any system of storing the discs from a bunch of airhead manicurists, but to not even label any of them smacked of ignorant stupidity. Still, while the latest was no doubt the most important, the others needed to be at least skimmed through for potential information and he had no trouble in deciding on whom to inflict that mind numbingly dull job.

A key scratching at the lock drew his attention upwards and to the door. Hidden from sight behind the desk, the woman was clearly surprised when his head popped up into view.

"What the hell are you doing?" she exclaimed, staring at him then jerkily looking around the salon reception for other signs of life. "Who are you?"

"DI Max Carter," he flashed his warrant card at her without rising, "who are you?"

"Where's Carly?" she demanded, deliberately ignoring his question.

Max sat back into the swivel chair and studied the woman. She was not unlike the photographs he had seen of Carly, big perfectly styled hair, except glossy brunette where Carly was bright blonde. Her lips were possibly too large for the petit shape of her face and her eyes heavily made up with black liner and dark shadow. Her look was way too much for the heat of high summer when everyone else was longing for freshness. In all, he thought, she bore a startling resemblance to some sort of big eyed, pouty fish. But, having come to that conclusion, his eyes wandered down the length of her body, or rather down the lack of length. She couldn't have been much more than five foot two out of her heels, which must have approached four inches. Yet the breasts that rose like over stuffed cushions from the straining buttons of her pink button down dress uniform and the legs that flowed from beneath, the last button on the uniform just slightly too high and allowing a sneaky flash of thigh as she moved, made him almost forget the less unappealing features of her face. He could fancy her though, if he had to, he could. In the past, he would. Her artifice would have numbed his mind while her sluttishness would have excited his cock. It did now, but not much, certainly not enough. He had found quite some time ago that this artificial look no longer worked for him. He wanted the real richness of a woman, unafraid of her own body, unafraid to be naked of clothes, make-up and whatever else she could find to hide behind. He had come to realise that if she could do that, then he wouldn't need to hide behind the false wall of his own making.

"That's what we'd like to know," finally giving her an answer. "I'll ask again, who are you?" This time the girl looked less defensive although still with some suspicion.

"Jessa Bennett. I work here. I manage the place for Carly. Look, what's happened to her?"

"When did you last see her?"

"Yesterday," Jessa walked towards Max, her buttons straining further with each step, the lowest threatening to pop free and reveal even more thigh that he was currently enjoying. Max didn't even try to keep his eyes on hers. This was the type of woman who liked to be admired, wanted it, needed male approval to make up for her own lack of self-worth. Max chose not to deny her wish, he wasn't in the habit of attempting to cure strangers of their emotional problems. His eyes lazily appraised the sway of her hips and the neatness of her waist, cinched in by the wide elasticated belt. He knew immediately that she was attracted to him, could see it in her eyes and in the way she coquettishly dipped her chin so that even in his sitting position she was looking down at him through her lashes. He raised his eyebrows as a gesture for her to carry on. "Yesterday, just after four o'clock. She said she had a headache and was going home to rest up before heading out."

"Where was she going?"

Jessa furrowed her brow for a moment, or at least tried to. In his head, Max heard Millie's voice exclaiming 'Botox', although he still didn't know what that really meant despite her attempts at explanation. He really wasn't all that interested.

"Come to think of it, I don't know. And that's odd."

"Why?"

"Because she always tells us where she is going. It's like …"

"Like what?" Max prompted.

"It's kind of like she wants us to know she hangs out at the best places, meets the really cool people."

"Like who?"

"Footballers mainly. A few DJs, maybe a banker if she was heading up west." Jessa dumped her bag on the higher section of the reception desk and leant down closer to Max. "Except, she's not so successful these days, not as young as she was, too old for those boys," she added bitchily, her voice little more than a conspiratorial whisper.

"I see," Max commented, as if he completely understood.

"Yeah," she straightened but stayed close enough to Max that it would have taken nothing for him to reach up and slide a hand inside her thigh. "Those boys want someone younger," she was clearly referring to herself, "someone more natural." Max nearly spluttered with astonishment at the woman's delusion.

"Right," he hoped she wouldn't notice his own incredulity, but she was admiring herself in the mirror behind him, running her fingers through her long hair in what she clearly meant to be a seductive manner. "So you don't know who she might have been meeting?"

"No,"

"Friends?"

"Well, there's us," she waved a hand at the salon, "the girls here," she explained when he appeared none the wiser. However, he was no less confused by her explanation in the light of her previous catty remarks although he decided not to pursue in opening that can of worms. Still leaning back in the chair he noticed that she appeared to have edged even closer to him, her thigh now a mere cat's whisker from his, her bare leg completely within his reach. Instead, he tapped a finger on the armrest of the chair and watched as she unconsciously ground back against the desk beside him in response to his rhythm.

"What about her car? Was it here when you left?"

"No idea," she was a little breathless now, perhaps a slight sheen of perspiration in the deep dark valley between her breasts. "I don't go out that way. The back door was locked, like always. Don't know who might be out there, watching for one of us to leave, it's creepy. Shit, is that what's happened to Carly?" With doe eyes she looked down at Max, begging him to keep her safe. Without waiting for his response she leant downagain, this time to touch his thigh. "Is there someone out there, waiting-"

"Guv?" called Grace as she returned to the reception, "I can't find anything back there that looks suspicious ... oh!" She stopped suddenly in her tracks as she took in the sight of Max being mauled by a young woman, and his rather smug expression of enjoyment. "Sorry if I'm interrupting something," she muttered in disgust, peeling off her purple gloves.

"This is Jessa, Grace. She's been very er … helpful."

Grace eyed the pair of them disdainfully. "I can see that," embarrassment heating her cheeks at his utter disregard for propriety, for not considering that she might find his method of information gathering offensive and inappropriate.

"Well, Jessa," he smiled at the woman, extracting himself from beneath her, carefully avoiding any more physical contact, "thank you. If there's anything else you think of or hear, make sure you let me know," he placed his card on the desk. She picked it up immediately without letting her eyes leave him, her expression one of wide eyed vulnerability, until she glanced down at the details while he made for the door following behind Grace.

"Hey, are you the Max who's with that red haired copper?"

Max stopped and looked back over his shoulder quizzically for a moment before turning to face her, her tone was anything but kind and it made him bristle.

"If you mean PC Brown, then yes. Why?" he asked injecting coolness into his voice.

"It's just they had a bit of a row, that's all. You might want to have a word with her." He felt the tension in his body increase. While it was one thing for him to bring Millie into the case on his terms, it was quite another for a complete stranger to implicate her in any way. Unaware of his displeasure she continued, "Carly was really pissed off when she left, like your girlfriend had one up on her." Jessa stalked towards him, her own card in hand, "and I can see why," she murmured softly close to his ear, pushing the card into his fingers, "if you ever get bored with your PC Brown, call me. You won't be disappointed."

Max fought a grimace, if the girl had been largely unappealing before, she was now wholly repellent. But she might also be useful and with that firmly in mind he returned her smile.

Grace, silently watching the exchange, felt her stomach churn with disgust. Thankful that she barely knew Millie and therefore was unlikely to be in the position of having to look her in the eye, knowing how easy this obviously was for him. She found herself pitying Millie for feeling the need to be in a relationship with such a man. Really, at times like these she was glad to be single.

As he turned away from Jessa Max caught sight of Grace's appalled expression and realised that she believed what he was doing and rolled his eyes at her in irritation before turning back to Jessa.

"Well, like I said, Miss Bennett, thank you for your help. I'll send the discs back with an officer, when we've finished with them."

"You're welcome, Max," she purred, "of course, the most important thing is Carly's safety," every word dripping with false concern.

-ooOoo-

"Thank God for that," he muttered, "thought she was going to suffocate me with her perfume."

"Maybe you shouldn't have let her get so close," Grace sniped back earning herself a sharp look from Max.

"Just doing what was necessary, Grace. You could learn from that."

_Bet Millie wouldn't agree_, she thought feeling sorry for a woman she hardly knew. But there was no point in voicing her opinion. He wouldn't care and she didn't want to get involved.

-ooOoo-

"Well, I didn't buy the phone for him. I bought it for me but it's too complicated for what I need and the shop wouldn't take it back … no, I'm not spoiling him … and I'm not trying to buy him either …"

The DS smiled slightly at the DCI from the doorway. He was really enjoying this exchange with his ex-wife. If she didn't know better, she might have assumed this was part of his plan all along.

"Er, Guv?" she interrupted loudly, as she knew she was meant to.

"Look, I've got to go … yeah, well I still don't see the harm in it … yeah, okay … bye."

He replaced the receiver with smug satisfaction. "What?" he looked up at his DS with all innocence. "Ex-wife baiting is one of my few pleasures in life these days. I'm getting pretty good at it, don't you think?"

"So immature," she shook her head, but her disappointment was tinged with amusement. In her opinion, the ex-wife brought it on herself. "Anyway, there're more developments on Fleischmann, if you're interested?"

"Go on."

"The daughter has been reported missing and her car has been found burnt out. Wasn't reported stolen so must have been taken after she disappeared. And," she smiled sneakily, "guess who is listed as the SIO?"

"Hmmm …" he swivelled in his chair, for dramatic effect, "I'm going to guess … Carter?"

"Such powers of deduction, Guv." He laughed, her sense of humour was coming on in leaps and bounds, although he supposed not everybody was likely to appreciate her dryness.

"If you've got anything planned for today, you'll need to cancel them. You and I are going on a trip down memory lane."


	10. Chapter 10

As ever, thank you to Feebee and Firebird for their wonderful support and reassurance …

-ooOoo-

"Austin?"

"Yeah, boss?"

"Send the message."

"Yeah, boss."

-ooOoo-

Millie sighed as she started up the central staircase rising within the impressive reception hall of the Fleischmann residence. Her mother had arrived already, apparently she was just about to leave the house when Millie called. Millie didn't ask why despite the early hour, her mother had a diary of social and charity commitments that would put most workaholics to shame with its relentlessness. She started early every day, today probably would have been swimming followed by a committee breakfast meeting for the local school, church, flower festival, art society, the list was endless.

"Darling, take these," Sondra had handed over two trays of homemade frozen lasagne, "one for you and Max, and another for Georgie … and Carly when she gets home. They will need feeding, I doubt he'll eat much until then and who knows what she ..." she trailed off with a frown, unwilling to contemplate the horror Carly might be enduring.

"Er … thanks, Mum," Millie struggled to balance the two trays and the phone in her hand while shutting the door behind her mother.

"It's a good thing your father left for the office before me, you know how he never likes to see food leaving the house."

Millie frowned. Her mother was always so calm, she never rushed, never panicked, yet there was something in her tone that was disturbingly unfamiliar. She didn't seem to quite meet her daughter's eyes and had darted past Millie in the doorway, pushing her car keys into her handbag.

"Mum-"

"Where is he?"

"Oh, er … in the kitchen. I can't get him to talk. He hasn't spoken to me since Max left. I don't know what to say to him, I know I should … but it's all so close to home. I mean Carly and I-"

"I know," Sondra placed a hand on Millie's upper arm. "I know about you and Carly," she continued softly, "I know what a bully she can be but she was such a lost little girl when Joyce died. Maybe it wasn't the right decision to thrust you two together so much, but I couldn't leave them out in the cold, pining for her. Carly and Georgie needed us then and you haven't done too badly have you? Daddy and I had to let you fight your own battles and you are a better human being for it. You understand more for knowing her, I think." She paused for a moment, "I had a Carly too."

Millie chewed her lip. Devoted as she was to her mother and in awe of her capable serenity, every now and then she would drop a bombshell like this. Almost as if she was slotting missing pieces of a jigsaw into Millie's life, which would have been all well and good if Millie had known they were missing in the first place. Millie stared at her mother, confused at how could she have left her daughter at the mercy of Carly's cruelty. But this wasn't the time for that and there probably would never be a time. Perhaps the early adolescent bullying, the taunting had never been quite as bad as her adult self remembered, perhaps it was Sondra's way of letting Millie know that the world wasn't perfect and unpleasant people did exist within it. Millie nodded, accepting her mother's explanation, it didn't really seem to matter now. A father sat in the kitchen of his family home, the other two members missing, one forever and the other, well, no one could know the answer to that yet. That mattered.

"I'm going to take a look in Carly's room upstairs although I don't suppose there will be anything useful in there."

"Okay darling, I'll sit with Georgie."

"Can you stay for the rest of the day? It's just that I'd like to get down to Sun Hill and talk to the guys, find out what's going on."

"Of course, but can't you do that by telephone?"

"Yes, but I'd rather go in." The truth was Millie didn't quite believe Max was being completely honest with her and if she wanted to find out why, she would need to corner him and get answers face to face. She also didn't trust him not to heap the pressure on Georgie and the only way she could prevent that was by being his shadow.

The bedroom was stuffy. Unsurprising with the weather and also because Carly didn't use it anymore except for the occasional overnight stay. Like Millie's bedroom over in Epping, it held the physical mementos of Carly's childhood and teenage years but as she hadn't moved out until the year before it had also aged with her and moved from child into womanhood. Or perhaps it was simply a reflection of a family so different to her own. Carly didn't really have friends, so there were no cringe-worthy photographs taken in passport photo booths with terrible hair and awful make-up from fifteen years ago. There were no 'goodbye – friends forever' notes from school friends written on the last day of the last term, most of whom would never be seen again. It was neat and sparse, expensive but empty, styled but soulless. Standing there, taking in the remnants of Carly's past, she began to feel slightly nauseous. The stuffiness had finally got too much and Millie moved over to the window to open it. As she did, Georgie's voice floated up towards her. She strained to listen in, praying that he wouldn't notice. She didn't need to worry, Georgie was pacing the patio below, each step filled with an angry tension she could feel even up on the first floor.

"If this has go anything to do … Kiril, I swear, if anything happens to my girl … well, I don't care what it takes … just keep your end of the bargain."

Millie took a step back from the window as Georgie disconnected his call. Who was Kiril? And how was he involved? And, why the hell hadn't Georgie told her about him? She sank down onto Carly's bed, annoyance gripping her. She hated secrets. She really hated being lied to by people.

-ooOoo-

Max looked over to where Tommy, Grace and Mickey were gathered, all watching the wide screen television, quietly conferring between themselves.

"Well?" he asked briskly approaching them from behind, his hands on his hips. Grace jumped and Mickey spun round in surprise at his arrival. Only Tommy turned smoothly to his boss as if he had been aware of every step in their direction. His piercing blue eyes fixing on Max without a trace of emotion. Grace watched, slightly in awe. Max evoked something in everybody. Often annoyance, sometimes hate, generally unease, especially when he was being nice. But Tommy was never shaken, it was as if the two men had complete understanding of each other, an unspoken connection that made for a perfect working relationship. Never a cross word passed between them although they were far from drinking buddies either. "What have you got?"

"Well, Guv," Tommy began, "not a lot … except this." He waved the remote control and resumed the motion on the screen. A masked figure, presumably a man, appeared from the side of the screen. His eyes stared into the camera for a moment before the picture went blank.

Max turned his attention back to Tommy. "Anything from the other cameras?"

"All the same. I'd have to get down there to figure out how he managed to dodge each camera to disable them all like that, but that's what has happened. Slick. Somebody has put a lot of effort into abducting this woman. Nothing from this to go on."

"No, but I've got Nate Roberts going through the rest of the discs, maybe whoever it is slipped up on his recce and we'll find something there."

Mickey chuckled, "what's Nate done to deserve that?"

"He was walking too slowly," Max answered obscurely, leaving Mickey more confused than ever. "Tommy, go downstairs and get him to hurry up will you?"

"Sure."

As Tommy passed, Max took the remote control from him and rewound a couple of frames, staring into the eyes of Carly's probable abductor. "Who are you?" he asked to himself, searching what little could be seen of the face for any clue to identity. "Grace?"

"Yes, Guv?"

"Get the CCTV for the surrounding area. There must be some sign of him in the area, a man with a bag I suppose. I guess we wouldn't be lucky enough to be gifted a masked man wandering around Canley on one of the hottest days of the year."

Grace opened her mouth to object to being tasked with finding yet another needle in a haystack, but caught Mickey's sympathetic eye just in time to remind her that she would only bring on another barrage of abuse. Instead, "yes, Guv," was all she could mutter, retreating to her desk.

Mickey shifted awkwardly, the sole survivor without a task. "You know, Mickey, I'm willing to put money on that whoever this is," he wagged a finger at the screen, "is connected to Fleischmann. Disabling security cameras smacks of an inside job. Have a word with that snout of yours, find out who's been pissed off lately."

"She's not a snout. Lesley is the girlfriend of someone I helped out a bit, that's all."

"Which makes her a snout. She owes you."

"She's not into all this, Guv," Mickey persisted.

"Well, she is now.

-ooOoo-

"Millie! I didn't know you were on your way in." Max stood in the doorway of his office and pulled her back in with him, having leapt from behind his desk to intercept her before she could penetrate the depths of CID. "No one told me."

"That's because I didn't tell anyone. Why would I?"

"I thought you were going to stay with Georgie?"

"No," Millie said slowly as if talking to a small child, "I said I would ask Mum to sit with him while I came in here, to see how you are getting on."

"Oh, right. Well you could have called for that."

"Yeah, but there's something else."

"What?"

Millie bit her lip and leant back against a filing cabinet, knowing how satisfied Max was going to be about been proven right in his suspicions, but it had to be done. "There's definitely something Georgie isn't telling us. I overheard him talking outside to someone, someone called Kiril. He was making threats, as if he knew that this Kiril either had something to do with Carly's disappearance or knew something about it."

Max's eyes lit up at having been justified and although he fought to suppress the bubble of euphoria, it was impossible. "That's great. Good girl, Millie." That did it, the bubble popped as her eyes narrowed at what he thought passed for praise, instantly pulling him up short and shamefaced. "Sorry," he muttered, "didn't mean to sound … well … umm ..."

"Like you were petting a dog for bringing you your slippers?" she finished for him acidly. She held his stare for a few moments, punishing him while he solemnly waited for her anger to dissipate.

Eventually, she exhaled and slumped her shoulders. Once again, this wasn't the time for recriminations. Max also exhaled in relief, he'd got off lightly. "So, did you talk to Georgie about this?"

"No. I was going to but I thought I'd bring it in to you guys first. I figured that there must be a reason he didn't mention Kiril when we talked to him earlier. I thought maybe it would be better to find out who he is ourselves, without alerting any suspicion. I mean, if he is involved, whoever he is, we don't want to panic him into hurting Carly."

Max mulled over the next step. "Yeah, you're right."

"And also Max, don't you dare go at Georgie like bull in a china shop. You need me in on this, he won't respond to your tactics. You were too aggreessive with him earlier, more or less accusing him of being responsible for Carly going missing. He might have opened up if you had let me do the talking. Like we agreed," she finished pointedly.

Max looked at her sharply. If those words had come from any member of his team he'd ball them out, or make them regret them soon after with some unpleasant task. But with Millie, it was unthinkable to inflict such punishment. And anyway, she was right he had to concede. Perhaps if he had been gentler with the old man earlier, he might have given up 'Kiril'. "Yeah, maybe." He lifted a hand to her cheek, a rare moment of softness in the workplace. Without a doubt, she was his greatest weakness.

From the safety of the photocopier, Grace watched as Max belied his well practiced inhumanity. Out of the line of his sight, she watched his guilt turn to excitement, back to guilt, to indignation and finally into something she had never seen in him before. Tenderness, whether it was real or not she couldn't tell. She stared in confusion, forgetful that it wouldn't take much for his attention to turn towards her, unable to comprehend how just a couple of hours earlier he had encouraged another young woman to pour herself over him just so that he could get what he wanted. Yet here he was with Millie doing much the same. Grace's upper lip curled with disgust.

"Mickey? Grace? In here," Max barked out into the office. "Where's Tommy?" demanding when they entered.

"Haven't seen him since he went downstairs to chase up that CCTV," replied Mickey, not bothering to even try to cover for his Sergeant. Max rolled his eyes, that meant probably chatting up Kirsty Knight in the canteen.

"Well, Millie has a breakthrough lead for us," he announced unable to keep the pride from his voice, nodding to her to fill them in on what she had overheard.

When she had finished, he rubbed his hands together a little too gleefully for Millie's liking. "Grace, I want you to find out from Fleischmann's phone operator what number he was talking to and then who it belongs to. That might give us a full name. And Mickey, now you've got something concrete to ask your snout about."

"She's not a snout!" Mickey exclaimed in exasperation.

"Just do it Mickey."

Millie watched and listened. Why didn't this feel quite right? Why did it seem as if Max, Grace and Mickey already knew more about all this than they should have done by now?

-ooOoo-

"Carter."

"Max, it's Neil Manson."

"Guv!" Max didn't bother to hide his surprise as he rooted around in a desk drawer for his phone charger. "How's things?"

"Good. Very good. And with you?"

"Yeah, great. Busy. You didn't tell me how frustrating it is to manage this lot!" he joked.

"Well, you'd never have taken the job if I had," responded Manson lightly, "anyway, at least you don't have to manage the worst of the bunch."

Max was just about to ask Neil to explain when it dawn on him that the 'worst' was probably him. Instead he gave a little dry laugh, accepting his role at the butt of that joke. "So, what can I do for you?"

"I thought I'd better give you a heads up."

"On what?"

"I'll be coming in to Sun Hill later this morning."

"Right, well, it'll be good to see you, but we've got a lot on."

"It's not social, Max. I know about Fleischmann's daughter. He's been on our radar at SOCA for a long time now and it's likely there's a connection with what he's into. We've got information that could help with finding her. But it's bigger than that, Max. We know Fleischmann is in deep to some nasty characters that SOCA has been trailing for years but we haven't been able to get near enough to take them down. If Georgie has got into trouble with them, then we can er … persuade him to give them up. I'm not coming in to take over, only to assist. Pooling resources, sharing intelligence, that sort of thing. You'll stay as SIO, I won't interfere."

Max hesitated. "Do I have a choice?" Manson's silence told all. "Thought not. I guess we'll see you later," he said tightly.

"I'll be bringing a member of my team with me."

Great, thought Max, someone else to get in the way. "Fine, I'll arrange a desk for him."

"Her. And don't worry about her getting in the way, she knows her way round Sun Hill well enough. Oh, and by the way, I'll bring the Fleischmann file you requested on Tuesday. I hope you find it interesting."


	11. Chapter 11

His fist clenched around the handset as somewhere in the distance he heard the click telling him that Manson had ended the call, and was thus nearer to returning to his old territory. But this was Max's territory now and he wasn't about to give it up. Still with the phone in hand, he looked out through the slatted blinds into his department, watching the quiet movements of his team. They might not like him, some of them might often hate him in fact, but they couldn't deny that they ran slickly and CID results had never been so good. The rarity of appearances by Meadows was testament to that. Heads were down and chat was minimal, or at least kept in the pub away from his ears, where Tommy Leighton was such a valuable resource. Personal relationships were actively discouraged from entering the building, making the arrival of the red head all the more uncomfortable, not least for him. Finally replacing the receiver he scanned the room for her, suddenly curious where she was and with whom. That was why he didn't want personal relationships in his team, they interfered with the thought process. His unwilling curiosity however turned suspicious when he found her, perched on a desk in front of the television with Tommy, presumably watching the CCTV footage. They weren't sitting too close, but close enough that when Tommy leant forward his arm brushed against hers and then again as he leant back. Too coincidental to be accidental. And Millie didn't make any effort to put some space between them either. What was she playing at? Perhaps she found him attractive, perhaps she liked it, perhaps she wanted ... He swore softly under his breath, suddenly aware that he was letting Manson's imminent arrival cloud his judgement already.

"So, you think this guy," she pointed to the man wearing the balaclava on the screen, "is the same as this guy here?" Millie waved a grainy printed picture of a figure.

"Yeah. That's what I think," Tommy smiled at her as he sat back onto the desk, his wrist sliding along her bare forearm as he did. Such smooth skin, pale, delicate looking, not his type. Surprised that she was the Guvnor's type really, but then, he mused, did that really matter. If the flesh was pliant and willing, then why not? Besides, who knew what went on behind closed doors. Maybe she was insatiable underneath, it was always the quiet ones. Maybe Max was the one who struggled to keep up, in every way. Or perhaps they liked to enjoy themselves with the aid of a few toys. He smirked to himself at the thought of Millie, dominatrix style with a submissive Max crawling at her feet.

Millie didn't flinch but she couldn't help feeling that he was closer than she would like, particularly when she could sense the green-eyed ogre somewhere behind her. Ignoring both men stoically, she continued. "Why? What makes you think that?"

"Watch this," he rewound the footage, "watch his right arm as it comes into view." Obediently, Millie did as she was told.

"A tattoo, can't see what it is though."

"No, but I'm working on that. Even so, now look at the picture."

Millie peered at it closely, she could just about make out something on the right arm of the man. "Looks like it could be similar. Long shot though, Sarge."

"Best we've got at the moment. When I get a clearer image from the footage, perhaps you could show it to Fleischman."

Millie bit her lip, still coming to terms with Georgie's likely involvement in whatever had sparked Carly's abduction. "I suppose … maybe he'll recognise it."

Tommy glanced at her, noting her tone of sorrow. He touched a hand to her arm, "Millie, if you-"

She did pull away from his touch this time. She might have felt at home in this building once, but not anymore. Her relationship with its DI changed everything. There seemed to be eyes everywhere that mistrusted her, or, as now, wanted something from her, or him. Suddenly she longed for the safe haven and relative anonymity of Barton Street, patrolling with Su or with others who knew Max only by reputation rather than experience. Where she really was one of the team.

"I'll do it, of course," she interrupted abruptly, "sort out a picture for me and I'll take it straight over. Hopefully it will mean something to him. Does Max know about it?"

Her obvious familiarity with his Guvnor put Tommy on the back foot this time. "Er, no. Not yet. Haven't seen him off the phone since I came back up with this."

"Right, well, will you fill him in?"

"No, no need. You do it. He scares me a little, and as you said, it's a long shot," Tommy winked, regaining his composure. "I'll let you take the flack," he continued over his shoulder as he stood and took a step away from the desk. As he walked away, Millie couldn't help taking in the fluid movement of his body, shirt tucked into jeans over a torso that screamed masculinity. Guiltily she tore her eyes away, something dragging them to look behind her. She half turned, looking back out of the corner of her eye and then, unable to resist the pull, straight into the furious glare of her very own ogre.

-ooOoo-

Max swore again. If there had been one, he'd owe a fortune to the departmental swear box by the end of the day. The look Millie gave him over her shoulder as she half turned, lips parted and eyes obscured by her lashes, just as in the pencil sketch in their home. The drawing he coveted, the one she had once tried to destroy in rage. Except now she was fully clothed, no hint of breast to enticed him, but he knew it was there and that knowledge was enough to make his palms itch to get near her to make sure there was no doubt in where her affection lay. He clamped his hands to his hips and clenched his jaw. Of course there was nothing between her and Leighton, he knew that at once, angry with himself for allowing pointless suspicions to play games with the deep set insecurity in his mind, wasting his time and sapping his energy. This was down to Manson and his 'offer' of 'help'. The sooner Max could get him and his sidekick out, the better.

However, Millie's expression brought him back to the present, suddenly realising that she was misreading his thoughts and he turned back to his office, only hearing her footsteps following him as he reached his desk.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly.

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me, Max," she sighed, "I know when something is wrong. I know when you are hiding something from me."

Max regarded her for split second, wondering how best to take her question. Was she referring to his behaviour just now or about Fleischmann in general? Or both? Probably both. "I've had a call from SOCA. They are coming in, 'to help'," he couldn't quite manage to keep the contempt out of his voice.

"Do we need help?"

Max raised his hands in frustration. "No, at least I don't think so, but it's not my choice, is it," he snapped and spun away from her, not entirely convinced that she believed his explanation.

Millie frowned, someone always had to bear the brunt of his anger. Usually at home she could deflect him or tick him off, depending on her mood, but here in the office it was different. Sidling up to him and strategically placing her hand on his body to take his mind elsewhere wasn't acceptable even in the relative privacy of his own office. It wasn't just that there were people around; it was also that there was a line which should not be crossed, they both respected that, it was why she left Sun Hill in the first place.

Max prayed she wouldn't ask who was coming in from SOCA, she didn't know Manson all that well but might want to hang around long enough to hear what he had to say. If that happened she might figure out that Max's interest in the family Fleischmann pre-dated Carly's abduction and then he'd have to explain himself before he was ready, before he had sufficient reason to give for investigating her Godfather. Aware that Millie was waiting for some sort of apology or at least conceding that he'd spoken too harshly, Max was relieved when Leighton appeared at the open door, his accent cutting through the tension in the small room.

"Millie? Got it," he waved a picture at her to take. "It's the best the guys can do for now, although if they can, they'll let us have a cleaner image later today." He glanced at Max in acknowledgment of his presence before returning to Millie, "I'll leave it with you," he murmured conspiratorially, leaving the room.

"Thanks, Sarge." Millie studied the picture, grateful for the excuse to end the stalemate.

"What's that?"

"A picture of a man DS Leighton has linked from the CCTV at the salon to CCTV on surrounding roads. A long shot, but I said I'd take it over to Georgie to see if he recognises the guy. He's got distinctive tattoo, still pretty poor image quality, but it might be enough for Georgie to recognise."

"Why didn't I know about this?"

"You've been on the phone for ages apparently."

"Oh, right. Well, DS Leighton should have brought it to me first, instead of …"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie."

"He was all over you."

"No he wasn't," Millie scoffed.

"Well, he was sitting too close. And you didn't stop him."

"Don't be ridiculous," but she smiled at his jealous petulance. "I'm off. I'll call you."

Max breathed a sigh of relief as she left, Manson might walk in at any time. For all he knew, Neil was in a car around the corner, and Max couldn't risk Millie being in the station when he arrived.

-ooOoo-

A key scraped clumsily in the lock alerting Carly from her amateur origami efforts with the sandwich packet, it was quite difficult to be intricate with nail extensions like hers but she was fairly proud of her first attempt. She wondered if she would get another packet for a second go. The door opened and no matter how she had steeled herself for this first encounter with her gaoler.

"Get up." Carly didn't move but instead stared up at the man with contempt. "I said get up!" Still she remained defiantly on the floor, leaning back against one of the crates. She slowly flicked at a fingernail with a thumb, the clicking noise exaggerated in the silence, reverberating off the bare walls. His eyes widened in hot fury, without words she was belittling him. Again. She'd done that once before, humiliated him in front of his mates on the door of her father's club. Now he had the chance to get even, no better than that, he'd make her sorry she had ever seen him. She was every girl who had ever laughed at him, every girl who had ever rejected him, every girl who had said not even if he was the last man on earth. Roughly he reached down and grasped a handful of her hair in his fist. That got her full attention, she yelped in pain as he dragged her to her feet and back across the room.

"Bastard! Let go!" she screamed. "You fucking bastard! Do you know who I am? Do you know who my father is?"

"Yes I fucking do." He jerked his hand in her hair, eliciting a further yelp from her. She grabbed at his hand but he caught her and twisted her arm behind her back, propelling her forward through the open door. And directly into another room containing a chair and table.

"You're going to pay for this," she raged. "Ow! Don't pull at my hair like that! Ow! If you pull out my extensions … When my Dad get gets hold of you-"

"Shut up."

"No! I won't fucking shut up."

He shoved her against the wall, just as filthy as those in her prison, her cheekbone slamming hard into its gritty roughness bringing another gasp of pain.

"Yes, you fucking will, bitch," he whispered into her ear, "and what makes you think you Daddy is going to get hold of me? What makes you think your Daddy is ever going to get hold of me? Daddy's not going to save you now." He gave her another shove. "Stupid bitch."

She was breathing heavily now, her eyes wide with fear, tears threatening to fall. This was real, clearly not some sort of game to frighten her. She swallowed, using the pain in her cheek and scalp to focus her mind into survival, to conquer her fear. Being scared would get her nowhere. Her silence appeared to appease the man enough that he slackened his hold.

"Sit down."

Carly thought about defying him. But it didn't seem that would be a clever thing to do. With all the dignity she could muster she allowed him to guide her to the chair. As she sat she noticed the implements on the table next to her. A knife and a large pair of scissors. She gripped the seat of the chair to hide her trembling. His possible intentions raced through her mind but she clenched her jaw tightly and lifted her chin. She wouldn't beg, no matter what. And she wouldn't make it easy for him, meeting his eyes with unadulterated hatred.

He picked up the knife and pressed the point to her bruised cheek. "You move, and I'll cut you. And I'll enjoy it. Understand?" Carly didn't answer, her throat was too tight to make any noise and she didn't dare nod in case the knife point pierced her skin. "Understand?" he demanded again, applying further pressure to the knife but not quite enough to draw blood.

"Yes," she finally found herself able to whisper back and exhaling in relief as he drew the knife away and took a step back. His eyes appraised her, but not in the admiring way she was used to. He made her feel dirty, worthless. Suddenly he grabbed a handful of her hair again and began to roughly hack at it with the knife. He continued for several seconds, sawing away but succeeding in only pulling out a few strands. In her surprise Carly forgot her promise to stay still, her hands flew to her head. "You wanker, do you have any idea how much this weave cost? Bastard! You're so going to fucking pay for this!" The next thing she knew she had fallen from the chair and hit the ground with a thud, her head spinning from his fist into the side of her head. Then, as she regained her senses, she heard the shearing sound of the scissors efficiently cutting the precious waves of hair from her head, stripping her of everything she was.


	12. Chapter 12

Apologies, I never mean for these chapters to be so long when I start them …

-ooOoo-

In the twenty or so minutes after Grace watched Millie disappear out of CID, the door must have opened and closed frequently but with her head so firmly buried in paper records, banking, phone, tax returns, barely any of the comings and goings registered. So what made her look up this time was a mystery, but it certainly did her heart no favours. With her desk facing towards the door, she was the first to catch a glimpse of him walking in as if the clock had flipped back the year or so since he had last walked out of Sun Hill and on to bigger things. She froze, breathing suddenly secondary to the lurching beat of her heart as a strange palpating sort of excitement took over her body, the drumming of her blood in her ears threatening to deafen her as every other sound was obliterated. Never before one to fall so dramatically in love, she found herself unable to understand the confusion flooding her mind at the unexpected sight of him. He wasn't much to look at, didn't possess the dark charisma of Tommy Leighton or the near demonic intensity of Max Carter. The gentleness of Banksy left her indifferent, and as for Phil Hunter, well, she could never quite understand his purported number of conquests over the years although she had to acknowledge there must be a reason for Sam Nixon to have taken up with him. But Neil Manson, there was something different there. A mixture of kindness mixed with intelligence and genuine empathy had intrigued her, then it hooked her. He could appear so detached, but under that veneer was a vulnerability she found incredibly endearing, and even though he never appeared to notice her, sometimes she had found herself to be lucky enough to be the one to see beneath the surface. She thought she'd forgotten and moved on, had even gone on a couple of unfulfilling dates, but it was all still there the same as ever, utterly undiminished.

Finally, the need to breathe kicked in and the shock lessened, the hum of the room grew audible once more. Her eyes searched for his and she thought he was just about to connect with her when a clipped voice behind him captured his attention.

"Guv, would you mind …?"

"Oh, sorry Suzie," he turned back, juggling two laptop carry cases to hold the door open for her while she carried a box of what looked like files.

"Thanks."

As the younger woman walked through, all heels and assurance, he placed the cases down on the nearest desk and clearing space for her to set down the box. It was only a brief moment but the fluidity of their interaction made Grace stare with envy. The woman looked straight at Grace, her eyes narrowing before she turned back to Neil and whispered something, he nodded while she appeared to flick a speck of dust from his suit jacket and then disappear back out into the corridor. It was so casual, perhaps not exactly intimate, but definitely evidence of a deeply close relationship. Her eyes rested in the middle distance, her mind dwelling on how she had once imagined her relationship with him might be similar, only to have such notions quashed by the impersonal manner of his leaving.

When Grace regained her concentration he had already turned back to the heart of the room and she found his gaze had come to linger on her. For a moment she felt him reach out in silent recognition but it was gone as first Max then the stranger appeared behind him.

"I see you two have already met."

"Er, yeah. Suzie has introduced herself," explained Max wryly.

"I trod on him."

"I'll live, although I may have a limp," he muttered.

"I did apologise," Suzie appealed to her boss. "He was standing behind me, I didn't know he was there."

Neil sighed. He should have known these two were unlikely to hit it off. Perhaps he did know, after all, watching Suzie niggle at Max was likely to be almost as entertaining as ex-wife baiting.

"Well, anyway, we've got a lot to be getting on with."

"Do you need desks? Banksy's out this week and next," Max gestured towards the desk adjacent to Tommy and Grace, "or there's the briefing room?"

"The briefing room will be fine for both of us," declared Suzie confidently.

"Actually, Suzie, I think it would be a good idea if you took a desk in here. Bed you into the team."

She furrowed her forehead in consternation and looked across to the faces of her future deskies. One wore a grin, evidently appreciating the opportunity to assist with bedding her in, the other quickly diverted her attention back towards the paperwork on her desk.

"Well, I suppose so."

"I won't be far away."

Max cleared his throat, by way of interrupting the domestic which threatened to unfold.

"Grace!"

She looked up, deliberately avoiding Neil and addressing Max directly. "Yes?"

"Clear Banksy's desk will you? DS Sim will be sitting here, for now."

"Oh, er, yes. Sure." With fumbling fingers, she attempted to put her own desk, and thoughts, into some sort of order.

"Now, Grace," snapped Max impatiently, irritated by her hesitancy, "we haven't got all day. Briefing in five minutes. I'll leave you settle in, Guv," he added stiffly to Neil who nodded and took himself off to the briefing room while Max retreated to his own office.

Suzie silently watched Grace scurry round to the desk and stood imperiously as the older woman completed her servile task. With little more than a murmur of thanks, Suzie sat and after smoothing her long hair back into a low ponytail secured with a plain black band, engrossed herself in setting up her laptop.

"Any chance of a coffee?" she queried, without looking up.

Realising after a moment that the request was aimed at her, Grace was just about to reply but Tommy butted in, rising to over the newcomer.

"Probably not. Although the machine dispenses coffee flavoured water if that will do? Would you like me to show you where it is?" Clearly affected by his proximity, Suzie twisted away so that she could look up at him without being too close to his body for comfort. Grace watched with interest, a spark had flown between these two and she did her best to suppress a smile, for once Tommy had come to her rescue, even though it was obvious his motives for engaging Suzie in chat were not entirely charitable in her own direction. Aside from relief at Suzie's distraction, Grace also felt a little bubble of hope. Perhaps she had misread the familiarity between Neil and her.

"I know where it is," snapped Suzie as she wheeled back in her chair to stand and round her new desk to pass a cable through a hole and into the power socket beneath, "I passed it on the way up but I don't have ti-"

"Bloody hell! Where did you spring from?"

A hearty slap on her back nearly sent her toppling across the desk toward Tommy who caught her by the wrist and surprisingly courteously helped her back to her feet, receiving little but a scowl for his efforts. Snatching her arm away she turned sharply back to the voice. "Mickey. Lovely to see you again," the tone in her voice not quite matching her words.

"Ha ha. I see you're the same as ever. What brings you back to Sun Hill anyway?"

"Suzie Sim!" Terry wandered in and with wide open arms engulfed her into his embrace. I heard from Smithy that you were here."

"News travels fast," she muttered, stiffly extracting herself from his bear hug and smoothing down the fine fabric of her immaculate shift dress. "I'm here with DCI Manson for the Fleischmann case."

Terry glanced at Mickey, speaking a thousand a words in silence before chuckling.

"What?" demanded Suzie.

"Oh, nothing. I bet Max is loving this though," Terry replied, rubbing his chin.

"What do you mean?"

"Two bulls in a room, never good news, particularly when one of them is full of sh-"

"Mickey! What are you still doing here? I though you were going to talk to this snout of yours."

Like guilty children, they all snapped to attention as Max made his presence known. Mickey sighed, there was no point repeating that Lesley wasn't a snout. "I've only just got hold of her. I've arrange a meet in half an hour."

"Hmm. Well as you are still here, you may as well hang around for the briefing," glancing down to check his watch, "in two minutes." With a final scowl in Suzie's direction, he headed off to join Neil.

"Is he always like that?" asked Suzie as the briefing room door closed.

"Believe it or not, that's an improvement. He used to be a real ars-"

"Terry," warned Tommy, "watch it."

-ooOoo-

"Right, settle down!" Max barked at the assembling team, thankfully minus Millie. "For any of you that haven't noticed, DCI Manson and DS Sim from SOCA are here to assist with the abduction of Carly Fleischmann." He eyed the room, silencing the murmurs of excitement at the reappearance of two former colleagues. "To recap, Carly is the daughter of this man, Georgie Fleicshmann. She has been missing since around four yesterday afternoon and although we can't be sure at this stage, it seems likely that she her abduction is linked to him."

"Why?" asked Terry.

"Fleischmann has links to several prominent gangland members. No one would want to kidnap his daughter unless they were sure that they could look after themselves, or unless they had a good reason."

"Such as?"

"That, we don't know. All we do know is that this man," he pointed to the image supplied by Tommy, "appears to have disabled the security cameras at the salon and was in area around the time of her disappearance. We have to assume that he is in some way involved."

"Mickey peered at the picture. Is that a tattoo?"

"Think so," confirmed Tommy.

"Looks familiar. Where have I see that before?" he murmured quietly to himself.

"We also know that Fleischmann was talking to someone called 'Kiril' this morning, making threats if Carly is harmed."

"Kiril?" interrupted Neil, glancing across to Suzie. He nodded at her prompting her fingers into a flurry of activity on her keyboard. The private code between the two was not lost on Grace. "You didn't mention this before."

"Only just came to our attention half an hour ago, PC Brown brought it in. She overheard Fleischmann talking to him on the phone. But as yet, we don't know who he is. Mickey," Max paused to emphasise his irritation at Mickey's sluggish inactivity, "has an informant inside one of the clubs. He'll be catching up with her after this briefing. Perhaps she'll be able to shed some light on whoever he is."

"No need," announced Suzie briskly. "Kiril Barsukov." With the room waiting, she coolly tapped away for a few moments longer before a fresh image appeared on the screen. "He arrived in the UK nearly three years ago, shortly after the banking crisis hit and began to invest in property at rock bottom prices. We can only guess where his cash came from. Since then we've heard rumours of money-lending and even protection racketeering but so far there's been nothing we can officially trace back to him. He is very careful about maintaining a clean business image, both for himself and his known operatives."

"We believe," continued Neil seamlessly, "that he brings in muscle from Russia to carry out his dirtier work and them ships them back when the faces become too familiar."

"And you believe there is a connection to Fleischmann?" asked Grace.

"Well obviously," interrupted Suzie dismissively, "if they were speaking to each other."

"I think what Grace means, is what is the connection between them," explained Neil softly and receiving a tiny smile of thanks from Grace. It was only a moment, nothing that anyone else would have noticed, except of course for Suzie. She frowned and in doing so her jaw jutted out slightly, Tommy watched, his fingers itching to slide it back into place and ease away that pout.

"Oh, well," she continued, "Barsukov is director of a variety of enterprises, most notably Drobyshev Holdings and its various subsiaries.

"Drobyshev? I've seen that name in Fleishchmann's bank records. He makes a regular monthly payment. Maybe a security contract? You mentioned that he has been linked to a protection racket. Perhaps that's how it starts, a legitimate contract turns into something else. Perhaps Fleischmann isn't playing ball and Carly has been taken to show him who is boss."

"Makes sense," agreed Max, quietly enjoying the unexpected face-off between the two women and for once not being the target of the animosity. It also served to distract him from the nagging feeling that his own authority was going to be undermined by presence of the former DI. "Mickey, get on to your Linda-"

"Lesley."

"Whatever, and find out what she knows about this Barsukov as well as this guy," he tapped at the almost forgotten picture of the masked man. "Find out if there's a link between them."

"Nothing from PC Brown yet on the image?" asked Tommy.

"No," replied Max more firmly than he intended, "she's still on her way back to Fleischmann, stuck in traffic. She'll call me as soon as she speaks to him." Max suddenly felt uncomfortable with inquisitive eyes on him from most of the room, his relationship still the enigma that it ever was. "Right, that's it for now, unless anyone has anything else to add?"

As the team filed out, Grace took her time in collecting her papers together until only the two of them remained. She wasn't quite sure why, certain that Neil was unlikely to make his way over to her side of the room. After all, why would he? She was clearly nothing special to him. Yet as she stood and lifted her head, tucking her hair behind one ear she felt his eyes on her, watching her. She opened her mouth to speak but realised that she had no idea what to say. 'How are you?' seemed bland and dull and 'Why didn't you say goodbye?' bordered on bunny-boiler, but she had no idea what should come in between. However, in the brief moments of her hesitation, her opportunity was lost as Suzie re-entered and once again the connection was gone.

-ooOoo-

Neil followed Max back into his old office, shutting the door behind him. He looked about briefly, nothing much had changed, including the surliness of Max's expression. "Brought you that Fleischmann file you requested."

"Oh, yeah, thanks." Max took the thin card wallet, curiously noting that it wasn't nearly so full of paper as most files this old. "I'm going to head out soon, there's someone I want to talk to. Might shed some more light on this Barsukov character."

"Who's that?" Neil asked innocently, willing to bet that the 'someone' would be Charlie Hammond.

"A source," replied Max defensively, immediately conscious that he was being childish in his secrecy.

"I'm not trying to interfere, this is still your operation, Max. I though I'd made that clear."

Max regarded him carefully, mulling over his response. "Yeah. Except it's not is it? You've been after Fleischmann for years. Of course it's your operation."

"No, Max. I want you to head this up. Suzie and I are only here to help, and of course exploit any opportunity that comes out of it. Nothing more." Seeing that Max was unconvinced by his assertion, Neil changed tactic. "So, you didn't tell anyone that I was coming in?"

"Nah," responded Max flippantly as he rounded his desk to sit behind it, throwing the file down and appearing to relax with the change of subject.

"Why?"

"Because I didn't know how long you were going to be and this lot can spend hours gossiping if they get the chance, which they don't. They didn't need to know until you got here, what good would it have done? Even if I told them someone from SOCA was coming in, but not that it was you, they would spend every minute trying to guess."

"These people are your team, not children in a playground."

"These people need to stay focussed on the job in hand."

"So you can get your result? Nothing has really changed with you, has it Max? I mean, from what I've heard you're, let's say, not quite so aggressive, but underneath it all you're as manipulative as ever."

Max raised his eyebrows. "Got a problem with that? Sir?"

Neil held his stare for a moment longer before allowing himself to chuckle. "No, Max. It's nothing to do with me anymore." Max's silence told him it was the first thing they had found to agree on so far. "Anyway, how are things with Millie? Still together?"

"Yeah. It's good." He thought about revealing their engagement, but it didn't feel right in the current circumstances.

"Even though you've been investigating her Godfather, a close family friend?"

"How do you know that he's her Godfather?" Max demanded.

"As I told you, SOCA has been trailing Flesichmann for a long time now. Every known connection has been examined, including Millie's father. It's those connections we can't pinpoint that interest us now."

Max lapsed into silence. "Ah, she doesn't know, does she? Hmm. Tricky. Yet you've got her down as FLO on the abduction? I hope you know what you're doing."

"I'll explain everything to her when there's something more concrete to go on. As it stands, Fleischmann trusts her more than he would any of the rest of us. He's more likely to let his guard down around her than anyone else I send in."

"So you're using her relationship with him to pump him for information that you might useful?"

"It's not like that."

"Isn't it?"

-ooOoo-

"Sit up!" Carly felt something paper-like hit her face. "I said, bitch, get up!"

She blinked, readjusting to her place on the floor at his feet. One foot pulled back and she recoiled instinctively, curling herself into a foetal position, bracing for the blow that was likely to come. But it didn't. Instead, he grabbed her arm and pulled her to a sitting position. He crouched down, his eyes maliciously staring into her hers, enjoying every moment. "I want you to pick up all this shit, and stuff it into here," he jabbed the jiffy bag envelope at her again, "it'll make a nice message for Daddy, don't you think?"

Shaking, Carly looked at the detritus surrounding her, her hair. Her carefully chosen beautiful hair which had made her beautiful, which had signified everything she had striven to be. Hesitantly she raised a hand to her head but the moment she made contact with the roughly shorn spikes, she snatched it away as if scalded. With her hair scattered on the floor, he had in one fowl swoop managed to make her the ugly little girl she had always believed herself to be.

**A/N – Brownie points to Firebird & Feebee for their correct guesses!**


	13. Chapter 13

Max could have happily throttled Neil for putting his own feelings of guilt into spoken words. Once they were out, regardless of who spoke them it became real. Yes, he was using Millie, without her knowledge let alone her consent, to manipulate a man who was as near as dammit a family member, a man she had known and loved since birth. He tapped his fingers on his desk, determinedly strengthening his moral justification. This wasn't all about him, hadn't Sondra also wanted the man out of their lives? It was best for everyone. Millie would understand. Max had just about revived his wavering confidence when his eyes fell on the plain brown file which lay across his in-tray. He picked it up and weighed it in his hand for a second or two, delaying the point of opening it, not knowing what might leap out of the few pages it contained, wondering whether any of it would refer to Millie's father as the electronic file suggested that it might. Curiosity got the better of him, taking precedence over the little voice in his head which counselled caution, _no going back_, it warned. He opened it and spread out the documents, seven in all. Administrative and court forms, no witness statements but one signed and dated confession by Fleischmann giving details of his operation handling stolen goods and smuggling into the now former Soviet Union through its embassy in London. No mention of Richard Brown. Only one other name appeared to stand out. Nikolai Antonov. A Russian connection back then and a Russian connection now, was it too much of a coincidence?

-ooOoo-

Millie tapped the code Georgie had given her earlier that day into the keypad at the gates to the Fleischmann house, glancing back to the sleeve holding the only tangible piece of evidence that they had while the gates opened. She pulled up at the house, relieved when her mother opened the door, all serenity apparently restored.

"Hi Mum, we've got something for Georgie to take a look at," she explained,waving the sleeve at her mother.

"He's still in the kitchen, I've barely had a word out of him since you left," she paused to sigh. "Well, as you're here, I'll take the opportunity to pop out and get a few supplies. This place is a typical bachelor pad!" she finished with a tight laugh.

"Millie? Is that you?" Georgie emerged from the far doorway as Sondra made her way out through the front door. "Have you got any news? Have you found her?" The desperation in his voice increased with every question.

"Georgie," Millie hoped the calm in hers would provide some comfort, "let's sit down," she guided him gently back into the kitchen, drenched in sunlight from the wide glass doors leading onto the immaculate garden terrace. She took his hand as they sat together. "CCTV footage from the salon shows a masked man disabling the cameras before Carly disappeared. It's impossible to identify him from that footage alone, but on film from surrounding cameras we have found this," she took the image from the sleeve and placed it on the table between them, "we feel certain it is the same man. I know it's not great quality but he does have what appears to be a distinctive looking tattoo on his arm." Georgie stared at the picture, yet his eyes were unseeing. Millie squeezed his hand to rouse his attention. "Georgie? Do you recognise this man?"

Slowly Georgie looked up at Millie, his lower lip quivering. "No."

"Are you sure? Couldn't there be anything familiar about him?" Millie pleaded. "I mean, the image is pretty grainy, but the tattoo covers most of his forearm, here," she placed a finger on the tattoo to try to focus his mind. "Are you sure you haven't seen it before? Perhaps a disgruntled employee or an associate of someone you know?" He shook his head jerkily and Millie felt her frustration rising, unable to dislodge the thought from her mind that he was hiding something, something that could be the key to finding his daughter. "Please Georgie, think."

"Why must I know him," he suddenly burst out. "Why are you so convinced that I know who this is?" he jabbed at the picture, sending it flying across the table forcing Millie to lunge after it. "What are you saying, Millie? I suppose you agree with that prick of a boyfriend of yours that I'm responsible for Carly going missing!"

"No! I don't think that, but I do think that you aren't telling me everything!" she fired back as he violently pushed his chair away from the table and paced to the other side of the room, running his hand through his hair. "Are you in trouble? Is there someone who would want to do this? To get at you? Tell me, Georgie, is there anybody you know who could be involved in this?"

Georgie dodged her questions. "I've told you, I don't know who he is. Is this the best your lot have come up with, Millie? Eh? Maybe I should do a little investigation myself," Millie shrank back, his tone had suddenly turned from despair into something so much uglier. He didn't look like Georgie anymore, his lips had curled back, showing snarling teeth, showing perhaps the man underneath the jovial charm and good humour. Millie blinked, hoping the image would go away, that he would revert to her Godfather once again. "This isn't about me. This is down to some nutter who wants my girl and has taken her because he can't get her any other way. And if you can't find him, then I will."

Millie mustered her composure as best she could. "That isn't going to help," she countered quietly, hoping she could bring him back down. But Georgie wasn't to be placated.

"You think you know everything, don't you Amelia?" She flinched at the use of her full name, only ever employed in times of punishment or disappointment, "but you don't live in the real world. Always protected by your father and now by that boyfriend of yours. What do you know? Playing at being a copper, you think wearing that uniform of yours gives you some sort of moral high ground-"

"Georgie! That's not true."

"No? You've always looked down on my Carly, haven't you? Never wanted her around? Jealous of the attention she always got. Don't think I never noticed!"

Millie stared at him in disbelief, stunned by his accusation. "Me? Jealous?" she started before catching herself, wondering if there was an element of truth in what he said. "This is ridiculous, Georgie. I want to help you, but you need to be honest with me. And you need to stay calm." Millie realised as soon as her final word left her lips that it was like lighting the blue touch paper. His eyes narrowed, boring into her as he took a deep breath to launch another barrage. But just as he opened his mouth to let loose he was distracted by clicking heels in the doorway. His anger switched to hopefulness but swiftly back to the despair that had greeted Millie only a few minutes earlier.

"Silly me! Forgot my handbag … what? What's happened?" Sondra flicked her head from side to side, her perfectly bobbed auburn hair swinging gracefully with the movement.

"I'm going to the club," Georgie announced, grabbing a set of car keys from a dish on the table and giving Millie a malicious glance for good measure on his way out.

"But …" Sondra looked at her daughter in askance. Millie simply hung her head and stared at her hands, clenched on the table.

-ooOoo-

His phone rang, dragging his concentration away from the papers in front of him. None of it made sense, too much of the case appeared to be missing and none of the investigating officers was familiar. He knew that files were shoddily kept back in the old days, prehistoric days, but even so, there would usually be a witness statement or two. A solitary document of confession in a case of this type wouldn't be enough, not even then. Unless of course, there was more to it, unless it was part of some sort of cover up and the file had been doctored.

"Hey," he answered softly.

"I've screwed up."

"What?"

"I screwed it up," Millie moaned from inside the cushioned teak gazebo at the end of the garden. She leant forward to cradle her head in one hand, the other holding the phone to her ear.

"What happened?"

"I showed him the picture but he said he didn't know who it was and when I pushed him he … he flew off the handle, said stuff … it was awful. Awful."

"What did he say?"

"Oh, just stuff about Carly and me, but it hurt, made me wonder if I've misjudged her all these years."

"Where are you now?"

"In the garden, he stormed off, said he was going to the club, said he was going to do his own investigating."

"Great," instantly wishing he could take it back as he realised that she wouldn't think he meant it, that he was pleased she'd rattled Fleischmann, even if it was at her expense.

"I'm sorry," Millie muttered morosely.

"I didn't mean it like that," he mumbled before quickly continuing, "Look, do you believe him? That he didn't recognise the suspect?"

"Yeah, I think so. But he is lying to us, I'm sure of it now. You were right to mistrust him. I think he knows exactly who is behind this, but I don't understand why he won't tell me." She paused for a moment, "I feel like a total failure, I should be able to deal with this."

"Millie, you are not a failure. Okay, so he's walked out, but that tells us something. It's good."

"Yeah?"

Her despondency pricked at his conscience. "Yeah. It tells us that Carly's disappearance probably is linked to him, even if we don't know why yet. You did well."

"Hmm," responded Millie, unconvinced. "Well, I don't see that I am much use here after all. Maybe I should come back into the station, or back to Barton Street."

"No! Er, at least not yet. Stay put, wait for him to come back and see what he has to say. We'll keep an eye on him at the club from this end, Mickey is on his way over there now anyway. You did the right thing, Millie. You needed to push him, if the answer to all this lies with Fleischmann, then the connection you've got is all we have right now. We need you there."

"But-"

"I need you there," he interrupted softly. "Stick it out, Millie. I know it's hard but you can do this, I know you can."

Max closed his eyes in relief as he disconnected the call. That was close. Reflecting on her update, he had to give Millie credit for forcing Fleischmann's hand, he'd doubted that she would really get tough enough with him. Fleischmann knew more about this than he was letting on, what previously been suspicion was now fact in his mind. But most of all, was the relief that he'd bought himself a few more hours to find out just what the Russian connection was all about.


	14. Chapter 14

_Before the story continues, a shameless plug for the Mallieness discussion forum - you'll find details of why Mallie could only ever be in our imagination ... sob!_

_Thank you to reviewers, as always._

-oOo-

"Guv?"

"Mickey. What have you got?

"Apart from heatstroke and a splitting headache?"

"Don't be funny. Does she know who our masked man is?"

"Yeah, she knew him straightaway from the tattoo. Dave Austin. Turns out he was the guy Carly had a go at, the one I told you about yesterday? She attacked him outside the club with her handbag, happened a couple of months back."

"Oh, yeah. Well I suppose that gives him motive." Max couldn't help feeling deflated. Perhaps there wasn't as much to this as he had thought. As he had wanted. "Right-"

"But that's not all," Mickey interrupted. "Georgie fired him after that, apparently Austin wasn't much good anyway. Not exactly stable, and Georgie doesn't like nutcases in his businesses."

"And?"

"And, she didn't think she'd see him around again, except that he turned up a week or so ago. Driving for Kiril Barsukov."

Max felt his heart race at the prospect his theory hadn't been blown out of the water after all. "So what does she know about Barsukov?"

"Not much. He comes and goes, the hired muscle changes every few weeks, as we already know. He uses a couple of rooms at the back of the club, has meetings there and sometimes stores a few boxes, but never for more than a day or two before they get shipped out again."

"Does she know what's in them? Or who it is that he meets?"

"Nah. She says Barsukov ain't the kind of guy you question much."

"What does she think Fleischmann makes of it?"

"Oh, she's sure he isn't happy. Not happy at all but it seems he can't get them out, it's like they've taken up residency. Either Georgie's being threatened or Barsukov's money is too good for him to turn away. Might even be both. Sounds to me like he's in too deep and can't get out. That's why she's worried about him."

"Hmm. What about Austin? Have you got an address?"

"Yeah, Lesley runs a tight operation, you should see her filing system."

"Good for her, what is it?" he muttered, searching for a pen underneath the paperwork crowding his desk.

"37b Stanhope Lane, he lives with his mother. Do you want me to get round there?"

Max paused, looking out from his office to the cluster of three people, two heads intently bowed, engrossed in their work or at least trying to be, and one with his feet on his desk laughing uproariously on the phone. Max's eyes narrowed. If he couldn't actually get rid of Manson and Sim, he could make the Sun Hill experience so uncomfortable for them both that they wouldn't want to hang around for any longer than they really had to. "Er, no. Leave that with me."

-oo-

"Sir? We've got a development."

Neil looked up from his screen with raised eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Mickey's snout has identified our man. Want to join me while I fill the others in?"

-oo-

"So, I suggest, if this is alright with you, Sir," Max glanced across to Manson in a show of deference that fooled no one, "that Tommy and Suzie pay a visit to Austin's address? If they find him, great, but if not, talking to his mother might give us some insight."

"But, I can be more use here!" exclaimed Suzie in alarm. "Surely Grace should go?"

Tommy gave Suzie a sly look. "Ah, come on. I won't bite. It'll do you good to get some air," he murmured quietly prompting Suzie to glare back at him furiously.

"No, I think it's a good idea," nodded Neil, appearing unaware of the depth of his colleague's anxiety.

"Right," pleased with his success, Max rubbed his hands together as he watched the mismatched couple began to get ready to leave together, one of them blatantly less enthusiastic than the other. Suzie was bound to hate every moment of being stuck with Tommy for the next hour or so. "I'm off out as well, shouldn't be long but if anything happens, call me." And with more of a spring in his step than the circumstances should have allowed, he strode away out of CID, leaving Neil and Grace behind him.

Neil wondered if Max had planned this deliberately. He knew that Tommy was exactly the sort of character to rub Suzie up the wrong way, too smooth and way too cocky, but he couldn't disagree with Max's suggestion having declared that Max was fully in charge of the op. He'd had to go along with it. It was only when the door closed behind the departing trio that he found himself pondering whether he and Grace might also be part of Max's little game. Movement beneath his hand made him look down with the realisation that he was resting on Grace's chair. Suddenly self-conscious of their unwitting closeness he edged away awkwardly.

"So, er, how have you been?" he asked softly, taking up occupancy of Suzie's vacated seat across from Grace. He could have returned to the briefing room, but that was a lonely place and he didn't want to feel lonely anymore, baiting his ex-wife for kicks and using Suzie as some sort of surrogate in lieu of a real-life partner. Seeing Grace again made him remember the little moments of frisson, the moments that made him feel so much younger, before the demands of his dysfunctional family and job had taken all his energy leaving nothing for himself. Now his 'family', Jake, was more interested in girls than playing footie with his father and his career was about to be turned on its head once again with the re-centralisation of SOCA, perhaps, just perhaps he could reach out? There might be nothing there, but he'd kick himself if he didn't try.

"Good, thanks. And you?" she replied with stiff politeness.

"Yeah, fine. Very busy, that's why I … er… well …" somehow he felt it necessary to justify why he hadn't contacted her at all since he left. Not that he had reason to, he told himself. After all, nothing had actually happened between them. "So, how is life round here? Under DI Carter?" Grace's eyes darted to the side, avoiding what she could see was a mischievous glint in his. It wasn't a fair question, he shouldn't ask her about a senior officer, her boss, especially when he must know how tough things were for her. "Sorry, I shouldn't-" he began, regretting his glibness.

"It's okay, but the answer to that question will be different, depending on whom you ask. Not all of us are favoured."

"And if I'm asking you? If you don't mind."

Grace paused, wondering if she really did mind, wondering why he was asking. But he was asking and for the first time in a long time she wanted someone to know how unhappy she was, and that 'someone' was still Neil Manson. "Let's say I'm considering my position here."

Neil raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips together thoughtfully. "Well, if you need-" but he was interrupted by his phone, "sorry," he muttered, "I should take this. It's Jake."

"Yeah, sure." As he rose from the chair, all thoughts of what Grace might need forgotten or at least on hold, she felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips, nothing much had changed with him. She reapplied herself to the statements in front of her, but this time with a slightly lighter heart.

-ooOoo-

"So, Suzie, what's it like being back in Sun Hill? Catching up with old friends?"

She gave him a derisive sideways glance and swore silently as she stalled the car at the traffic lights. Tommy had tossed her the keys to the car in the yard, daring her to remember her way round the streets of Canley while he settled back into his seat and closed his eyes for a snooze. The sound of his regular breathing had convinced her that he was indeed asleep until he spoke suddenly and made her jump, her foot slipping from the clutch pedal. There was something in his accent, in his languid demeanour that she had immediately recoiled from, except that she was coming to realise that it wasn't because she found him offensive, it was quite the opposite. Few men truly attractive, they either tried too hard or not at all and in her eyes, that made then either fake or lazy. Tommy was clearly neither, she was rattled. Really rattled.

"Friends? Former colleagues, yes. But friends, no." She restarted the engine and willed the lights to turn green.

"There must be one or two that you were close to? Apart from our Neil, of course. What's going on there?"

"Not that it's any of your business, there is nothing going on between DCI Manson and me."

"I don't buy that. Green."

"What?"

"The lights," he nodded towards the now empty lane ahead of them and once again leant back, his eyes closed.

Infuriated, Suzie scratched about in her head for something to retaliate with, but she didn't know him well enough for anything personal or professional. "So what about you, Tommy? Is it always Tommy? Not Tom or Thomas?"

"No." The curtness of his reply startled Suzie, she eyed him carefully as they once again came to a standstill on the other side of the box junction, searching for the air of indolence that she had come to expect from him. He stared straight ahead. "It's never Tom or Thomas." Bitter, he was definitely bitter. And that made her very curious.

"Why's that? Tom, Thomas, good names."

"Because that is what my father was called."

"And you didn't get on?"

"You could say that." He paused and turned to face her, expressionless, the always laughing glint was gone. "I'm surprised you don't know all about it."

"Why would I?"

"Thomas Leighton. You don't know? Really?"

"Like I said, why would I? What was he, some sort of serial killer?" she ended with a little laugh which died in her throat as she registered the seriousness of his expression. The sound of a car horn behind jolted her back to reality and confused, she reluctantly slipped into first gear and took the next turning into Stanhope Lane. Tommy spotted 37b first, next to Smart's Fish Bar, the wafting stench of cooking oil invading the air-conditioned confines of the car as Suzie pulled up outside.

Suzie smoothed down her dress, not that it was creased, but for something to do to ease the silence while they waited at the door. Footsteps approached from the other side and both knew they were too light and hesitant to belong to their suspect. Tommy had already reverted to type, the boyish smile, the glint that was sure to captivate the older woman. Hell, it had somehow captivated the younger woman as well, even more so now she knew there was intriguing enigma behind the façade.

"Mrs Austin?"

"Yes?" a single eye peered through the sliver of open doorway held by a brass chain.

"DS Sim and DS Leighton, Sun Hill CID." In unison, they flashed their warrant cards at the cautious woman.

"Really? May I have a closer look?" the door opened to the maximum allowed by the chain and a roughly weathered hand tentatively reached out to touch Tommy's ID while he held it out closer to her. "Can't be too careful," she explained hesitantly in an Irish accented voice.

"You're absolutely right, Mrs Austin. If only more people were as sensible as you we wouldn't have half the distraction burglaries that are carried out each day." Suzie turned away and rolled her eyes as the woman positively glowed at his praise.

"How can I help you officers?"

"We'd like to speak to your son? David?"

"Oh, well he's away on business for a few days. Very important work," she added proudly.

"I see, but I'm sure he knows how to leave his Ma well cared for while he's away."

That was enough for Suzie. The mutual Mrs Austin-Tommy Leighton adoration society was already wearing thin and they had only just started. "May we come in, Mrs Austin? We'd like to ask you a few questions," the woman looked sharply at Suzie, her hostility at the young woman's unwanted interjection unmistakeable.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Austin, for my colleague's er, brusqueness, it's just her way. We've an important case on at the moment and she's very keen to thoroughly explore every line of enquiry. We'll only take a few moments of your time and I'd appreciate it ever so much."

Tommy's placatory words had an immediate effect on Mrs Austin who softened and closed the door slightly to unfastened the chain which fell with a clank against the doorframe. Tommy glanced down at Suzie who gritted her teeth and shut her eyes tightly with obvious infuriation. When she opened them again, Tommy was already over the threshold closely followed by the old bag leaving her to trail behind in their wake.

"Where's that accent of yours from? I'm willing to bet you're a Galway lass."

Mrs Austin blushed. Suzie cringed. The woman could have been anywhere from her mid forties to early sixties. Her appearance was nondescript, almost indistiguishable from the decor of the house. Her short hair, cheaply coloured, was neither brown nor grey but a faded sort of sandy shade somewhere in between, clothes serving no more than the utilitarian need to cover her body, her face bearing a lifetime of menial work without ever knowing excitement. Suzie took it all in and shuddered inwardly, thankful this would never be her fate.

"Close. County Roscommon. But that was a good guess," she smiled girlishly. "And you? North of the border, I know."

"South Armagh, but I've family in Donegal, so I know the other side well."

"Ah, I see," a connection of faith was made, one which seemed to speak volumes between them. "Leighton did you say?" she continued, "now why is that familiar?" cocking her head to one side obviously straining to remember something from the distant past, although Suzie wondered if it might only have been yesterday. The woman was clearly peculiar. What was even more peculiar was the way in which her musing over his name appeared to galvanise Tommy into action.

"Mrs Austin, when did you last see your son?"

"Yesterday morning, but I spoke to him a couple of hours ago. Has something happened to him?"

"Not that we're aware of," answered Suzie shortly, earning herself another glare.

"Where has he gone?" asked Tommy, smoothing down Mrs Austin's raised hackles. Really, Suzie did have an incredible talent for ruffling feathers.

"Birmingham, I think he said. Or was it Bradford? Might even have been Brighton. Definitely a 'B'. Definitely."

Tommy and Suzie exchanged glances. It didn't really matter where Austin had told his mother where he was going. That she hadn't seen him since yesterday was most important.

"Has he gone alone?" Tommy asked.

"Oh, no! He's gone with his boss. A tough man, but fair. Very stylish, but then, these Russians often are. Look at that lovely Mr Abra …braham … you know that man who owns that football club."

"Abramovich at Chelsea," muttered Suzie in exasperation.

Tommy raised his eyebrows, impressed by Suzie's knowledge of Chelsea FC before turning back to Mrs Austin. "So, who does he work for?"

"Mr Bar … Barsukov," she announced with exaggerated aplomb. Suzie nearly gave her a round of applause, she was clearly expecting it.

Tommy stifled a smile, "and what does he do for Mr Barsukov?"

"Davey is his right hand man. Told me himself that he couldn't do without Davey."

"So you've met him?"

"Just the once. Lovely man. Lovely."

"And how long has Davey worked for him?"

"Just a few weeks, but he's doing so well. I'm so proud, especially after all that business with Mr Fleischmann." Mrs Austin wrinkled her features in disgust at having to utter the name.

"Why? What happened?" demanded Suzie.

"That slut of a daughter of his attacked my Davey. He was only doing his job. I've heard," she leaned closer into Tommy, "that she's a whore!"

"Really?" asked Tommy with wide eyes, encouraging the woman to elaborate.

"I think that she was after my Davey but he wasn't interested. He would never be interested in a trollop like her." It took all Tommy's self control not to burst out laughing at Suzie's expression as Mrs Austin looked her up and down, deciding that she and Carly belonged in the same category.

-oo-

"Your behaviour in there was inappropriate and unprofessional," muttered Suzie reaching for her phone.

"Oh, lighten up. What's the harm in having a bit of a laugh? That was probably the most attention the poor woman has had in years. She loved it," he teased while gallantly opening the car door for her, bowing slightly as she scowled at him. "Who are you calling?"

"The DCI."

"Why?" he took a step closer to her.

"To update him, of course. He'll want to know that we have a definite link between Austin and Barsukov and that Austin hasn't been home since before Carly went missing."

Tommy gently but firmly closed his hand around hers and took the phone from her hand, his expression turning serious. "No, I don't think so. This is my Guvnor's case, not yours. I'll take care of the updating."

-ooOoo-

After three cups of tea, half a packet of Dairy Milk Chocolate Fingers and the entire Daily Mail later, Millie still wasn't feeling much more positive about her ability to manage Georgie, despite Max's assurances that he had complete faith in her. He would say that, wouldn't he? Didn't have to mean it though. The buzz of the intercom from the security gates was a welcome prod to drag her away from her quagmire of self-pity as she rose to view the small screen. She peered closely, a figure, probably a man she had to guess from the breadth of the shoulders, in dark leathers with an equally dark motorbike helmet. Hardly high summer gear. While she contemplated this incongruity, the buzzer rang again.

"Yes, hello?"

"Parcel for you," the voice was muffled through the partially opened visor.

"Okay, I'll come down and collect it." Somehow it seemed odd, the courier, she presumed he was a courier anyway, hadn't said where he was from, not that she had asked. She probably should have asked, but Millie was halfway to the door by then and she'd find out soon enough when she signed the chit to accept the delivery. Except that by the time Millie reached the gates, there was no chit, there was no courier or his motorbike. But, there was a large yellow jiffy bag stuffed into the narrow railings of the gate. She examined it from a distance, then gingerly stepped closer leaning into it to listen for any sound but there was nothing except for the chirp of the occasional bird and rumble of cars passing by. Slowly she eased it out of its lodged position, surprised by how light and puffy it was. She flipped it over to reveal the handwritten address and blinked several times, unable to quite believe what she saw but it was unmistakeable. The 'r's gave it away. Carly always wrote her little 'r's in capital form. It was just one of her many ways of drawing attention to herself. Millie stared at the packet. Why the hell would Carly send her father a parcel the day after she disappeared?


	15. Chapter 15

**Thank you to everyone for reading! Extra special thanks to the lovely reviewers. Happy place, happy place ...**

"Can I help you? Sir?" The pretty girl on reception positively purred at Max. _Second one today_, he thought. _Why didn't this happen to me when I was single?_

"Yeah. Is Charlie Hammond about?"

"I'm not sure. Who's asking for him?" She leaned forward, not as well endowed as Carly's mate, but not bad.

Max flashed his warrant card. "Detective Inspector Carter." The girl's face fell in disappointment, _not enough money for her_, he decided with an inward smile,_ she's probably hanging out for a footballer_. With her charm dissolving by the second she picked up the phone and turned away, mumbling into the handset. It evidently took her by surprise that he would be a welcome visitor and she turned back to Max with the surly expression of one who had wasted her quota of smiles for the day on a worthless specimen.

"He'll be down in a minute, take a seat." She waved at a crimson covered sofa to the side of the room and resumed her occupation to her nails. Max looked around. He'd been in here before, once or twice, only to ask questions of staff in connection with other investigations but he'd never paid much attention to the décor. It gave the aura of opulence, persuading its guests that they were indeed winners, that their lucky streak would come well and truly good tonight, even if it didn't seem that way at first. Max could never understand the appeal of gambling, never so much as a pound each way on the Grand National. But gambling with something far more precious than money, that was different, he was an expert in that field and so far his luck had held.

"Mr Carter! Twice in twenty-four hours, I am honoured," the boom of a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. Max narrowed his eyes, he loathed this man's theatrics. "Always so serious, you should learn to to … what's that word Heidi?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Chillax," she muttered sullenly.

"Yes, that's it. Chillax!"

Max regarded him coolly, which only seemed to further amuse the older man and irritate Max even more. "I assume you haven't heard about Carly Fleischmann then?"

"Carly? Why, what's happened to her? Who has she laid into this time?" he asked humorously. "She's quite a handful. And a spoilt one at that."

"She disappeared yesterday. We have reason to believe she has been abducted, her car was found earlier this morning, burnt out."

Hammond's joviality vanished in an instant. "You'd better come with me," he turned and Max followed him along a dimly lit corridor and through a heavy dark stained wooden door into his private office. Max shut the door behind him, watching as Charlie rounded his desk, dragging one finger along the highly polished cherry wood. "How is he coping? Georgie?"

"He's bearing up. I have an officer with him."

"His Goddaughter by any chance?" nodding with understanding as Max's silence answered his question. "Those two families, they go back a long way. I'll bet the mother is on hand as well." He gave a little dry laugh at Max's obvious discomfort at being so personally involved. "I don't have any kids, so I won't say I know what he must be going through, but I do feel for the man."

"But you don't like him?"

"I don't have to like him to feel human compassion for him," Charlie snapped back. "Maybe that's something else you could learn." Max raised his eyebrows at the outburst which was enough for his opponent to fall back into character. "Do you have any idea why she has been abducted, or by whom?"

Still convinced that Austin was only a foot soldier in this game, Max decided against muddying the waters, he wanted whoever was really behind all of this. "What do you know about Kiril Barsukov?" he countered, ignoring Hammond's own question.

Charlie stared at Max, clearly surprised at the mention of his name. "Kiril? Not much. Pleasant enough but he keeps a low profile. Likes to be clean as a whistle, although …"

"Although what?"

"He isn't, obviously."

"Obviously?"

"He's Russian mafia, might as well have it written along the side of his car, his black Mercedes with his blacked out windows. He arrived in town one day, out of the blue, a couple of years back and started buying up anything and everything that was going cheap. But of course, he needed London contacts to keep it going, to legitimise himself and Georgie was more than willing to oblige."

"Not you? Did he approach you?"

"Oh, I met with him. But I've got everything I want right here. My place, I've spent most of my life building it and I'm not about to let anyone else come in with promises of riches and threaten to ruin it all. Barsukov is a member, I wouldn't refuse him that, but as for anything else? Well, he doesn't ask anymore."

"Why?"

Charlie sighed and eyed him wearily. "You don't listen much do you Mr Carter. I'm not greedy enough to interest them. Unlike some, I can say no and have always been able to. These people," he waved a hand, "these people depend on the greed of others to do things that they wouldn't ordinarily do."

"What do you mean? Are you saying that Fleischmann is in business with Barsukov?

Charlie shrugged his shoulders which Max took as silent acquiescence. "What do you think they are up to?"

"I couldn't say."

"Guns? Drugs? Prostitution? Money laundering?"

"Like I said, I couldn't tell you, but Georgie is a squeamish one so I doubt he'd have been interested in anything messy. Not to begin with anyway, but I suppose greed can change a man. If I had to choose, I'd say laundering, cleaning up Barsukov's dirty money through his enterprises. It would explain Barsukov's expansion of late. Especially his latest purchase, from what I hear."

"What's that?"

"A boat. Don't know why. Of everywhere that he could choose to live in London, he lives on a boat. Told me himself that the rocking motion helps him sleep better. Like being in his beloved mother's arms, if you can believe it! I suspect it's because he can leave whenever he wants."

"And where is this boat?"

"Moored in St. Katharine's Dock, very nice I understand. Close to the City, views of Tower Bridge."

"Do you know what it's called, the boat?"

"Yeah, and come to think of it, that is odd."

"What is?"

"It's called 'La Sondra II'. Didn't think to ask why, should have done. Quite a coincidence, don't you agree?"

Max felt his blood chill, surely it was too much of a coincidence that Barsukov's boat was named the same as Millie's mother. He didn't like it one bit, the seemingly unconnected strands were joining together in a way he could never have imagined only forty-eight hours ago. He took a deep breath.

"Nikolai Antonov."

"What?"

"Nikolai Antonov."

"Yes, I thought that's what you said," Charlie reached into a wooden box and took out a cigar. "I presume you don't?" he asked, gesturing at Max with it. Max shook his head. "Now there's a name I haven't heard in years. Must be thirty years, maybe more."

"What do you know?"

"I knew him, we all did, me, Georgie, Dickie Brown, at the back end of the seventies it was. He was something junior in the Russian Embassy but he liked the high life and was always ready for a party and a quick buck. He and Georgie were up to something, I don't know exactly what, but then Niko disappeared one day, presumably sent back to Mother Russia, and Georgie went inside for a bit."

"Have you heard anything of him since?"

"No, he's probably long gone. Why, do you think there's a connection?"

Max paused, wondering just how trustworthy Hammond was likely to be. He decided to play it safe. "Nah, it's just a name that came up in a file. Look, thanks for your help."

"Sure. And for what it's worth, I hope Carly is okay. She's not a bad kid, not really."

-ooOoo-

Millie slowly walked back into the house, holding the packet by its edges even though she was pretty sure whoever was behind this wasn't likely to have left any trace. Still, Eddie was bound to go on about corrupting evidence if she didn't at least try. As she walked she deliberated over who to call first. Georgie or Max. It was addressed to Georgie, so by rights he should be the one to open it. She couldn't deny him that, but the prospect of picking up the telephone and talking to him after the way he had stormed out wasn't appealing. How much easier it would be to call Max and have him take care of it. To make that call and take over everything. Yet by the time she climbed the steps and reached the door, her courage had been revived.

"Georgie? It's me. I think you should come home. Something has arrived, addressed to you. It's important." She replaced the handset, slightly ashamed at her relief that he had not answered his phone and instead had been able to hide behind voicemail.

"What have you got there?" asked Sondra quietly from the doorway to the kitchen, making Millie jump.

"I don't know," she replied hesitantly. "It's for Georgie, but look," she held the parcel up to her mother, "Carly has written the address. I don't understand. Maybe she has gone of her own accord, but I can't believe that." Millie shuddered, "I can't help wondering if she … she might have been forced …"

"Have you called Max?"

"No, not yet. I've left a message for Georgie to come home. He should be the one to open it." Sondra looked uncertain prompting Millie to continue, "He wouldn't thank me for not telling him first. You know that, not after how he was earlier."

"No, I suppose not. Tea?"

Millie smiled and nodded. Tea. When didn't a cup of tea make everything seem that little bit better, even if it was just to pass the time. While her mother moved around the kitchen as if it was her own, Millie hit redial on her mobile, Max answered immediately.  
"Hey."

"Hey."

"What's up? You okay?"

"Something has arrived for Georgie by courier, or at least I thought he was a courier. A guy on a motorbike but he rode off before I got to the gate."

"And?"

"It's from Carly, or at least the address is in her handwriting."

"Really? What is it?"

"I don't know, it's a jiffy bag. Puffy, really light. No sound or smell. I've left a message for Georgie to come home. He should be the one to open it."

"Yeah, I guess. Look, I've got to get back to the nick but I can swing by if you want?"

"Not until after Georgie has opened it. I don't think it will help if you-"

"Are around him," Max finished for her. "It's okay, I understand. Call me when you're ready."

The minutes dragged by with only Millie and Sondra in the kitchen, both women staring at the parcel laid almost reverentially on the table. Out of bounds until Georgie's return. It felt like hours but could only have been around fifteen minutes, their mugs of tea still warm, untouched. A scraping at the lock on the front door first alerted Millie, followed by urgent footsteps.

"What is it? What-" He stopped in his tracks, his eyes locked on the yellow packet, dominating the room.

"Georgie, this came for you. It looks like Carly sent it. Her handwriting-"

Georgie snatched it up, his face stricken with fear and panic, the colour draining from skin beneath the south of France tan. He held the packet, his eyes wide, nostrils flared as he stared at the writing incomprehensibly. Sharing the same confusion as Millie and Sondra but with a deeper dread of what might be inside. Millie watched him for what seemed to be several minutes but she knew was only a matter of seconds, vaguely aware of time creeping by like a ticking clock punctuating the silence. His fingers twitched around the parcel, unwilling to rip it apart, the fear of what it might contain fighting with the need to find anything that might tell him where his daughter was.

"Do you want …?"

Her quiet offer was enough to propel Georgie forward, he turned the parcel over to grasp the tab and ripped it apart. He stopped, staring into the open end and began to stagger, his legs giving way. Millie leapt up from her chair to garb his arm and steady him, but he was a big man, a bear of a man and her strength wasn't enough. He stumbled forward towards the table, taking her with him and banging her hip against the corner painfully. She gasped but kept her hold as Sondra came to her aid. Both women looked down to his hands, one still holding the jiffy bag, the other holding a long tumbling locks of bleached blonde hair. The bag fell to the floor, its contents spilling like a glinting golden puddle, as he collapsed into a chair, his face contorted with grief.

"Who is doing this, Georgie? You have to tell me, now!"

But he wasn't there.

-ooOoo-

"So, nothing else in the bag?" Max peered into it, looking distastefully at the tangled mass of hair inside. "No ransom, no demand?"

"No, nothing. It's like … it's like it's a message in itself. Don't you think? Something he is meant to understand."

"Do you think he does?"

"I have no idea. He's gone. I mean he's still here, but he won't say anything," Millie fiddled with the end of her belt. "Oh I wish I knew what do say or do!" she wailed suddenly with frustration. "I wish I could get through to him. There has to be a reason he isn't talking."

Max sat down on the wall next to her and with his fingertips under the point of her chin pulled her face to round to his. "Just stay with him. It might take time and I still think you were right earlier, there's no one else he's likely to respond to. And there's no one else who knows him well enough."

Millie frowned. "But why? Well enough for what? What is it you think he's going to tell me? I don't understand." Max's eyes dropped nervously to her lips, wondering if he was going to have to derail her line of questioning with a kiss. He hoped she wouldn't notice and felt a guilty pang of relief when she continued. "What I really don't understand is why he won't tell me anything voluntarily about this Kiril guy."

"Oh, er, don't worry about that. I'm, er, going to have a word with him now anyway."

"Really? Shall I come with you?"

"No!" he jumped up quickly, "I mean, no. You need to stay here, call me if anything happens, I'll take this back to the nick for Eddie. He might get something from it," Max added doubtfully sealing it in an evidence bag and throwing it casually onto the passenger seat of his car before reaching into the footwell. "Here," he turned back to her with a purple box, "I thought you might need these, to keep you going."

Millie gave a little laugh as she instantly recognised the chocolate finger biscuit box and fell against the comfort of his body, taking strength from the arms that closed around her. "Thanks, whatever would I do without you?"


	16. Chapter 16

**Bit of Neil/Grace, hope you enjoy ...**

A grim-faced Max strode back into Sun Hill less than fifteen minutes later, the evidence bag thrown at Eddie to clumsily catch, his orders barked at him. Max didn't hang around to listen to Eddie's usual grumbles about late lunches and lack of appreciation for his art.

"_What would I do without you?"_ If that hadn't been bad enough, the sensation of her warm body against his, her softness, her trust, certainly was. It had taken nearly all his mental strength to overcome the guilt tugging at his heart. It was at times like these that he rather wished he could go back to the old days when he didn't have one. Momentarily he blamed Millie for that. She'd woken him with that slap, all that time ago. He expected he'd receive another before long. If he was lucky.

He was gratified to note on entering CID that his mood escaped no one. Tommy was the only one to meet his eyes unflinching, a silent communication passing between the two men, to be discussed later. Both Grace and Susie watched him warily. Susie because she was still becoming accustomed to the stories of his sometimes dubious methods of man-management. Grace because she was usually the victim of said methods. His nostrils flared, often a forewarning of a barrage to come, his eyes coldly taking stock of the room. Every fibre of his body appeared to be on edge, just waiting for an excuse to explode, as he came to a standstill before them, hands on hips. Susie pulled herself up straighter, raising her chin and earning an appreciative glance from Tommy into the bargain. She caught it out of the corner of her eye and pretended to wipe away a crumb of biscuit from the corner of her mouth to hide the smile that threatened to unmask her. Grace swallowed, dreading with a degree of resignation what was likely to come next but her attention was immediately diverted as the door behind Max opened once again.

"Ah, Max. Glad you're back. Has Susie filled you in?" Max slowly turned, his body following his head and for a moment the malevolence was directed entirely at his ranking officer. Neil, however, appeared oblivious, staring with confusion at the two cups of coffee in his hands, first making to place one on Grace's desk before changing his mind and placing the other instead. Grace smiled her thanks and pulled it closer. Somehow she felt protected by his presence. Max wouldn't belittle her in front of him. By the time Neil looked back up at Max, the venom in his demeanour was gone, giving way to professional curiosity. To Grace, it was yet another example of his incredible talent for duplicity.

Neil took a sip from his cup, gesturing at Susie to continue.

She took the cue, "from the call he made to his mother this morning, TIU have traced his phone to somewhere on the Coal Lane Estate but it's been switched off since then. No trace of it leaving the area."

"Perhaps he's still there?" suggested Tommy.

"Maybe," agreed Max, "but it doesn't show much intelligence if he is."

"Judging by his mother I doubt he's brain of Britain," declared Susie drily.

"Hmm. But I don't believe for one moment that he is the one pulling the strings here and if he is following orders-"

"Barsukov?" she interjected.

"Possibly. There's no connection to anyone else. If he is following orders, then I'm willing to bet he has been told not to leave any trace, to make any calls well away from where Carly is being held. Get uniform over there to ask around though, somebody could have seen him which might give us something to go on."

"Susie is already on it, Guv," said Tommy, leaning forward earnestly. "Inspector Smith has a couple of units out there today anyway, community relations."

Max nodded approval at his second. Grace gritted her teeth and cast her gaze down to her cup, if she had made such arrangements Max would no doubt still have found fault somehow. He probably would have expected her to get on and carry out the door-to-door herself. When she looked back up again she found Neil watching her, brow furrowed with concern. She wondered if he was reading her mind.

Max took in the private interaction between them, he didn't like it. "Right, well I'm going to put a few questions to this Mr Barsukov, he's involved in this somehow. Care to join me," four people waited to find out who his was asking, "Sir?"

"Er, no. I'll sit this one out. You should take Grace though. She might give a different perspective."

Max felt his hackles begin to rise at the interference but then it occurred to him that this was just as good a way as any to keep these two apart. "Yeah," he managed graciously, "five minutes Grace. Tommy, a word in my office."

Grace dropped her head into one hand, her elbow propped on the desk, looking up when Neil spoke.

"You okay?"

"Yes, Sir. A sudden headache, that's all." She stood, an urgent need to escape to the photocopier assailed her, to get away from Susie and Tommy who were watching with keen interest and giving Neil no option but to follow if he wanted to carry on the conversation.

"You'd rather not go with Max?" She didn't answer. "I see. I know what he's doing. To you."

Grace turned away and stabbed at a button on the machine. "Then why did you suggest that I get in a car with him and drive halfway across London?" she muttered angrily.

"Because I believe that you might just see something that he will miss. He's too connected to this case, that's why Susie and I are here."

"What do you mean 'connected'?"

"You know that Millie Brown is Fleischmann's Goddaughter?" Grace nodded. "Even so, Max is determined to take him down. He's treading a fine line between family and th e job."

"But Fleischmann's daughter-"

"I know, I know. Max needs to stay focussed on finding Carly first, anything else has to come second, for now at least."

"And you're worried that he'll forget that?"

"I think he already has. Look Grace, I know you don't get on with him," Neil ignored her snort of derision at the understatement, "but he is a good officer. I don't want him to make a decision he'll regret."

"What's that got to do with me?"

"Oh Grace, come on. You are not this petty. Go along with him to meet Barsukov, find out what the guy has to say, keep Max in check. Ask the right questions." Grace looked at him doubtfully, still unconvinced. "I have faith in you, Grace, and I respect you. Don't let him turn you into something you're not, prove him wrong." Slowly, she nodded once more, his last words appearing to be the key, and walked back to her desk, leaving Neil watching her retreating figure with more than a hint of admiration.

"Those two look cosy," commented Tommy, watching the tete-a-tete through the blinds.

"Don't they just," Max looked up from his desk to follow Tommy's line of sight. "How are you getting on with Susie?"

"Oh very well, I think she's fallen for my charm."

"I hope not. I want them out of here."

"Ha ha. Getting in the way, are they?"

"Something like that. This is going to be a Sun Hill collar, not SOCA."

"Don't worry, boss. I'm on it."

-ooOoo-

The drive from Sun Hill to St. Katharine's Dock was predictably slow. Outside of their air-conditioned bubble, tempers frayed in the late afternoon heat as the horns of the white vans and black cabs played a chaotic symphony. Roads were littered with cones and barriers without a workman in sight, Max's bugbear. One of them anyway. He cursed under his breath repeatedly, staring ahead, barely acknowledging his colleague beside him, her elbow resting against the car door, praying for the congestion to miraculously subside and allow them to sail along the final mile to their destination. She could have continued in silence, it suited her to not talk, but she could hear Neil's plea in her head.

"How is Millie getting on?"

"Fine."

"Must be hard for her. Carly being a childhood friend."

"They weren't friends. Their parents are friends. Not Millie and Carly."

"Oh." This was even harder work than she anticipated. "I assume she's aware of Neil and Susie in the office?" Max didn't answer but instead changed gear with increased vehemence. "You haven't told her?" asked Grace with incredulity.

"She knows that SOCA is assisting at the station. I haven't had a chance to tell her it's Manson," he muttered, glancing at her very briefly then jerkily turning the steering well to avoid a random cone at the side of the road.

"Don't you think she'd want to know?"

"Maybe, but it isn't that important, not to all of us anyway." His pointed retort hit the mark and heat rushed into her cheeks, silencing her for the rest of the journey.

Max parked at the concierge office of the marina, flashing his warrant card at the security guard to gain entry though the metal gates leading to the jetties. Expensive motor boats and yachts lined each one, some dormant and mothballed, others a hive of activity with crew busily cleaning and painting. The atmosphere was one of hard graft in anticipation of high times to come on these floating luxury hotels. It didn't take long to reach 'La Sondra', excited laughter rang out, drawing them to it.

"I'm looking for Kiril Barsukov," he called up to a young woman dressed in a bikini top and tight cut off denim short shorts, whose laughter died at the intrusion as she looked down at the pair from the deck of the gleaming gin palace.

"You found him," a tall lean-framed man appeared from below deck, casually dressed for the South of France rather than the central London location. Max reckoned he was somewhere in his forties, possibly early, possibly late. Difficult to say, he was so immaculately groomed as to be almost ageless. His demeanour was outwardly friendly but there was coolness that exuded power and innate authority. "And you are?"

"Detective Inspector Carter and Detective Constable Dasari. May we?"

"By all means, officers," he replied courteously. Never one to be comfortable on anything but solid dry land, Max gingerly took the lead walking along the narrow roped gangway and up onto the deck. "Svetlana, another bottle of water please, I'm sure our guests will be thirsty, and on duty." The girl disappeared below deck and the two men shared a moment of appreciation. "Nice girl," Barsukov sighed to Max, "regrettably too young for me, but maybe for you ..." Max chuckled and held up a hand indicating that he too was only interested in looking. Grace clenched her fists, loathing both for their tactless display of chauvinism. She might just as well have been invisible. "So," he gestured to the cushioned seats under the royal blue canopy, inviting them to sit, "what brings you to my home?"

Max smiled at the girl as she set down the drinks. She didn't smile back, he wondered if he was losing his touch.

"We're investigating the disappearance of the daughter of one of your associates."

"Really? Who?"

"Carly Fleischmann. Daughter of-"

"Georgie," Barsukov broke in, "although I wouldn't say he is an associate. More of an acquaintance." He took a sip from his glass. "That's terrible. Do you have any idea what has happened to her?"

"Our enquiries are on-going, Sir," said Grace, "one of them being that her abduction may be a reprisal against him."

"A reprisal? Why would anybody want to do that? What sort of people do you think he associates with?"

Grace ignored his questions. "Just what is the basis of your relationship with Mr Fleischmann?" she asked more sharply than she intended.

"Mainly social, I like his club and the other bar he runs."

"It's quite a way from here, surely there must be places closer that you could choose."

"Yes, I'm sure there are. But I like the earthiness of the East End, there is less pretence, real characters. I like it. Somehow it reminds me of home. And of course I have several business interests in the area."

"Quite an empire in fact." Barsukov looked at her sharply and then to Max. Grace expected him to jump in and takeover, but he didn't, instead he leant back against the plump cushions, his eyes not leaving Barsukov, clearly giving her leave to continue.

"Am I under suspicion of being involved?" his tone had turned curt.

She regarded him for a moment, deliberating on how to play this. Whether to back down or pursue her line of questioning. Max was being of no help and she couldn't help wondering if he was giving her the rope to hang herself.

"We want to establish the facts surrounding Carly's disappearance and that includes Mr Flesichmann's business interests. Now you said that you are not an associate of his, but we have reason to believe that you have been operating out of the Parisa Bar for several months. Is that correct?"

"Georgie was kind enough to allow me to use some of his property, while my own offices were being refurbished."

"But you are still there?"

"It has become very convenient. Georgie and I are in negotiations for a more permanent arrangement."

"What do you have in mind? Planning to take over his bar?"

Barsukov gave a little hard laugh. "And you think I would abduct his daughter to force him into selling to me?" He shook his head. "I am a businessman, Ms Dasari, neither an extortionist nor a kidnapper. I am not in the habit of employing such low tactics for financial gain."

He was smooth, Grace gave him that. Quite possibly too smooth. "Does David Austin work for you?"

"He does, from time to time."

"Have you seen him or heard from him in the last day or so?"

"No. Which is surprising."

"Why?

"I asked him to call me today. I can only assume something has happened at home. He lives with his mother, who I believe can be demanding on his time. He is her only family."

"How would you describe his character?"

"A little hot headed at times, but hard-working. I wouldn't hire him otherwise."

"Not afraid to get his hands dirty?"

"I'm not sure I like what you're implying Ms Dasari."

"We know he had a run in with Miss Fleischmann a few weeks ago."

"From what I have heard and seen, Carly frequently has disagreements with people. Although I can't imagine that any would want to abduct her, not even David. I suggest you look further afield. Has it occurred to you that she may have been taken by a stranger?"

"That is very rarely the case, Mr Barsukov."

"But possible and it would be a horrendous misjudgement on your part if you failed investigate the possibility, don't you agree?"

"Please be assured that we are investigating every possibility," replied Grace tersely, kicking herself for rising to his obvious derision of her.

"Well, thank you for your time Mr Barsukov," Max broke into the tense silence, standing and stretching out the annoying crick in his back, hoping that Millie might massage the ache away again tonight. " Just out of interest, are you planning on staying in London for the foreseeable future?"

"Oh for the next week or so, for sure." His smoothness returned, effectively dismissing Grace. "After that, well I may need to return to St Petersburg for a few days. My wife, she does miss me. And if there is anyone I must avoid upsetting, it is her. My weakness." Max gave a little laugh to indicate that he understood perfectly.

Grace was already at the top of the gangway down to the jetty when Max turned back to Barsukov. "Does the name Nikolai Antonov mean anything to you? She looked round just in time to see a flash of surprise cross Barsukov's features.

"Who?" he recovered quickly.

"Nikolai Antonov," repeated Max.

He appeared to consider the question for a few moments before eventually shaking his head. "No, I don't believe I do. Should I?"

Max met his eyes, letting the silence hang for a few seconds, waiting for any further reaction, his expression blank. Suddenly he raised his hands, causing Barsukov to blink. "Nah, it's just a name from an old file. I wondered if it might be familiar to you, that's all." Grace understood enough of Max's game-playing to know that whoever Antonov was, he was likely to be relevant in some way. "We'll be in touch if we have any further questions."

"Of course. And Mr Carter? Please do assure Georgie that I am eager to assist him in any way I can, he need only call."

-oo-

"Nothing, not a thing," fumed Grace in exasperation.

"Oh I wouldn't say that."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on Grace, he's hardly typical of the criminals we run into every day. But he's too slick to be kosher. And as for all this," Max gestured at the marina behind them, "even with all the property he's supposed to have bought up since arriving in London, how does he pay for this? That boat must have cost a hundred grand. Trust me, he's a front. There's someone else running this show."

"Okay, so if you're right, how do find who that is?"

"Manson. He'll have contacts within Interpol. Didn't think I'd say this but he might just be useful for something other than making your coffee after all."

That last barb stung. She'd planned to ask about Antonov, but decided to let it go and talk to Neil later when Max wasn't around.

-ooOoo-

"David?"

"Yes, Boss?"

"Move the woman to the new location. Sergei will be with you in the morning to send the next message."

"Yes, Boss."

**-ooOoo-**

**A/N Next chapter – nothing but MALLIE!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Def Leppard? I think not! All music courtesy of Paul Weller... is there anyone cooler than the Modfather?**

Humming along fairly tunelessly to Wildwood, Max reached into the clear packet for a handful of green beans just as he heard the sound of a key turning in the door. With knife poised above the chopping board, ready to decapitate the fine strands he looked up and behind him to see the door open and through it shuffle a thoroughly drained Millie.

As she entered, the sight of Max at work by the hob jolted her memory. "Damn," she sighed with frustration, "I forgot Mum's lasagne." She shut the door behind her and for a moment leaned back against it, her head tipped back, eyes closed as she took a deep breath, inhaling the mouth watering aroma filling the room.

"Doesn't matter. I thought I'd cook anyway. What do you think? Thai lime and coconut curry with jasmine rice?"

"I think you are a genius," she opened her eyes and gave him a tired smile, pushing herself away from the door and dumping her oversized bag onto the sofa as she walked towards him. Next to his workstation stood a half full glass of white wine, one of a set given to the pair of them as a joint Christmas present by her parents, a symbol even back then of how he had become embedded into the Brown family. At first Max had been too afraid to even touch the delicate stems, let alone handle them for everyday use, but over the months since, gradually, silently as his own security grew his fears subsided and now no excuse was needed for the glasses to come off their shelf. Millie picked up the glass and took a sip, the cool liquid immediately easing away some of the trauma of the day. "Smells good, you haven't done this before. And you've set the table! What's brought all it on?"

"Nothing," Max proudly held up a Delia Smith for Waitrose recipe card. "Your mother's suggestion at the weekend. I picked up the stuff on the way home this evening. Easy." Millie smiled affectionately and still holding the glass in one hand she ran the other up the back of his neck and into his hair, her fingers gently massaging the nape of his neck. He groaned softly, succumbing to her ministrations, the feeling so exquisite that he yearned for her to never stop except that then the curry would be ruined and they would have to get a takeaway, again. He stilled her hand, linking his fingers through hers and pulling it away. "As good as that is, dinner will be ready in ten, so why don't you have a shower and we can pick this up a bit later?" Her hair which had been tied up all day now fell in random kinks and twists over her shoulders. With his free hand he pushed it back from her face, gently stroking her cheek as he pulled away. Millie nodded, she needed reviving if she was to stay awake long enough to eat and the full force of her power shower was guaranteed to do the job. "Ten minutes," he reiterated as she ambled towards their bedroom.

Closer to fifteen minutes later, Millie reappeared, dressed in the same white shift tunic she had worn when he had proposed a few days earlier, her hair still wet but combed through and sensually tousled. Max frowned at her, the words 'you do something to me' emitting from the ipod speakers had never seemed quite so apt.

"What?" she sat on the tall stool next to where he was spooning out the curry onto rice already heaped in large white bowls and helping herself to another gulp of his wine. "Your ten minutes is always my fifteen. You know that."

"Hmm," he grumped and turned away to get her another glass.

"Oh no, not for me," she protested, "I'll have some of yours." Max rolled his eyes. It was always the same, this way she could pretend that she wasn't drinking. It was just the same with chips. His exasperation however faded when he noticed that she was wearing his ring. Still too big, she toyed with the stones, rotating it round her finger, still not used to it being there. He smiled and leant in to her, delivering a soft kiss to her lips and receiving a gratifying moan in exchange.

"Let's eat."

Despite her objection, Max did pour a glass of wine for Millie while she took the bowls to the table. "What's it like having SOCA in the station?"

Max cringed inwardly, now would be the time to come clean and tell her the truth. He'd been thinking about this since leaving work but hadn't come up with a way of explaining Manson's presence without also declaring his own interest. And even if he could explain that, it didn't help that what had started in his mind as an opportunity to take down Fleischmann was becoming increasingly complicated. The unanswered questions of just who was Nikolai Antonov and the name of Barsukov's boat weighed heavily, he couldn't think of a way to tell Millie these details without causing her worry, and she had enough of that already. He hesitated and made his decision. "Cramped."

"Oh dear. Are they treading on toes? How many have you got?" she asked airily, clipping up her hair.

"Er, two."

Millie swallowed a mouthful of the food. "Mmm, this is delicious! Useful?"

"Might be," Max thought back to his conversation with Manson following the meeting with Barsukov. He and Susie had been only too happy to exploit their Interpol connections to find out more about the mysterious Kiril Barsukov.

"So, what did happen with Barsukov today? You didn't call."

"No, well we didn't get much out of him. Probably not going to be on his Christmas card list either."

"Who went with you?"

"Grace." Millie raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What's that look for?"

"No reason, except that I always took her to be pretty calm in these situations, unless you-"

"I barely said a word," protested Max, "I let her do all the talking. Well, nearly all," he added under Millie's sceptical stare.

"So what did he have to say?"

"Do we have to do this now?" Max lifted his glass hoping without hope that she would let it go.

"Yes, we do. What did he say?"

Max took a fortifying gulp, setting down his glass slowly before replying. "He said that he and Georgie are only acquaintances, he's been using some of Georgie's premises as an office and would like to make it permanent."

"What about Austin?"

"Yeah, he said Austin works for him sometimes but that he hasn't heard from him since Carly went missing."

"Do you believe him?"

"Nah. But right now we've got nothing else to go on," he sighed, "back to the drawing board tomorrow. There must be something we've missed."

"And if not?"

"Then we'll have to get tougher on Georgie."

-oo-

Millie was asleep when Max finally crawled into bed next to her, but it didn't stop him from pulling her body into his, pushing her hair away so that he could nuzzle into her neck. Sleepily she wriggled against him. unconsciously teasing him, goading him into arousal, daring him to wake her. But he didn't dare, she needed to sleep, instead he pulled her closer still and whispered, "I love you."

-ooOoo-

It took a few moments for Carly to register that she was no longer in her filthy cell of a room, the softness of a pillow beneath her cheek being the first clue. Hope rose within her, that perhaps this had all been some kind of hideous dream, that she was in her own bed and the nightmare was over. But, as her eyes slowly focused on the pattern of the bed linen she knew she wasn't at home. In the following moments she became aware of the lightness of her head, the heaviness of her luxuriant hair extensions was gone. She lifted a hand to touch her scalp but found herself unable to make contact, instead clamping it to her mouth to stifle a sob while she remembered what had happened the day before. Gradually she brought the horror under control enough to sit up and survey her new prison. It was definitely more comfortable, in the dim daylight provided by shuttered windows it appeared cleanly decorated and thankfully without the stench of damp or mildew. She sat in the middle of a large bed, made up with cheaply garish linen, but at least it was a proper bed instead of a stained bare mattress on the floor. Suddenly feeling urgency calling from her bladder, she looked around, expecting to find that bucket again but was pleasantly surprised to see a basin and loo through an open doorway. Stiffly she clambered off the bed, staggering over to relieve herself and splash some water on her face. She tried hard to avoid the reflection in the mirror above the basin but it was impossible and her eyes dragged themselves maliciously upwards, as if they were seeking to augment her punishment, or whatever this was. The creature that stared back couldn't be her, it just couldn't be. This thing was ugly, it repulsed her but she stood staring, transfixed.

A noise behind her made Carly spin round clumsily, she put out a hand to steady herself against the door frame but a masked man grabbed it and hauled her out of the bathroom. She couldn't work out if it was the same man, but something seemed different about him. Taller perhaps, certainly stronger.

"Let me go! You bastard! You fucking bastard!" she screamed but he didn't even look back as he dragged her by the wrist with a vice-like grip through the doorway and into another room. The floor was covered in blue plastic sheeting, the only furniture a long trestle table covered in the same blue plastic. Carly blinked, completely disorientated by her new surroundings.

"Hold her!" the man barked with a heavy accent, tossing her at another man who held her upper arms from behind, keeping her immobile. She wanted to struggle, but fear held her still, not even allowing her to scream again when the first man came at her with a cloth gag and stuffed it in her mouth. "On the table! Hold her arm out," the first man instructed, the second man tried to comply but as he loosened his grip she took the opportunity to claw at him, all thought of protecting her manicure gone as she sank her nails into his bare arm.

He gasped audibly as her nails left their long red marks. "Bitch! You're gonna pay for that." He twisted one arm viciously behind her back while clamping the other palm down on the table top, her candy pink and gold flecked fingertips outstretched, his disgusting damp sweaty body pushing into her from behind. It was then that Carly saw what she assumed could only be some sort of meat cleaver at the end of the table, glinting dangerously in the light from the single light bulb dangling above her. The first man picked it up and ran a finger along the blade edge, caressing it lovingly before looking down at her, "you move and I will take off your hand. Is that what you want?"

Carly's breathing became rapid, her hyperventilation making her dizzy, the enormity of what was unfolding was incomprehensible. She shook her head in panic, unable to speak she could only make squeaking noises through the gag, her eyes instead pleading for mercy. But he had none. Brutally pressing down on the back of her hand, he lifted the cleaver and after that Carly Fleischmann once again fell into blackness.

-ooOoo-


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N With 'thanks' To Feebee for a quite hideous image, incorporated (perhaps should say shoehorned) herein ...**

"That's Dad's car," with surprise in her voice, Millie narrowed her eyes at the imposing Mercedes visible through the railings to the left of the house, next to her mother's smaller and much more fun version. "Mum didn't say he was going to be here."

"Not really all that much of a shock though, is it? Your Dad and Georgie being old friends." Max pressed the button to drawn down the electric window of the car.

"No, I guess not," agreed Millie slowly, "although Mum is always better in times of crisis. Dad would rather take Georgie out to play a round of golf. Not that I suppose Georgie is in a golfing mood," she finished quietly.

Before Max's extended fingers reached the keypad, the gates to Georgie's house opened as if their car had a magic pass. In reality, Sondra stood waiting for them on the doorstep with hands clasped, ready to usher in two of the people she treasured most in the world. Her smile, kind, reassuring, did the job for Millie. In her mind, everything was better when her mother was around. For Max, the older woman's smile raised that nagging sense of guilty doubt. He had been using her earlier words as his reason for going after Georgie, she wanted him out of their lives, but seeing her in the role of maternal carer to the near broken man had caused him to wonder if she would thank him after all. Perhaps at the time she had meant every word but now, when the chips were at their very lowest, she would never reject someone who needed her. As he got out of the car and followed Millie up the steps, Max smiled back tightly, quickly looking past her into the hallway beyond.

"Is Dad here?"

"Yes, darling. He felt he couldn't stay away and came in early to beat the traffic."

"Right," Millie took a deep breath. "How has Georgie been this morning?"

"Terrible. He's up and dressed, but that's about it. He won't talk. I thought Richard might be able to shake him out of it, but ... well, you'll see for yourself."

As they entered, Richard's distinctive form became apparent in the light of the kitchen. He sat with his coffee mug in front of him, the newspaper still folded on the table and looking out at his friend slumped in a chair on the patio beyond. While Max and Richard greeted each other with monosyllabic grunts, Millie and Sondra busied themselves with another round of coffee.

"So," began Max, but he didn't know where to take it from there. He could hardly launch straight in with 'what went on with you, Georgie and Nikolai Antonov thirty years ago, because I think somehow Carly's abduction is connected although I have no evidence for that link?' He was tempted, really tempted, but even if he was right, that approach wasn't likely to cement the fragile bond between them, yet if it had been anyone else he would have said it without the slightest regard for the potential fallout.

Fortunately however, Richard took up the conversation, saving Max from himself. "Had to come down here," he stated gruffly. "I'm no good at this sort of thing, but I couldn't not be here. Not after everything ..." he trailed off. Max willed him to continue but was disappointed. "Anyway, I don't like it when Sondra's not at home, she stayed here last night, did you know that?" Max nodded, noting a hint of displeasure. "It doesn't feel right, not having her next to me. Especially doesn't feel right when my other daughter's boyfriend," he almost spat out the last word, "wanders around in my house wearing what he refers to as budgie smugglers. I don't know where to look, in my own house. Can you believe it?"

"Budgie smugglers?" replied Max weakly, "I don't even want to think-"

"Think? If only that was all!" exclaimed Richard, "I've had to watch them ... in a manner of speaking, that is, for the last two days, in my house. I wish it would bloody rain properly, although it still probably wouldn't stop him. Seems to be allergic to proper clothes. Anyway, I left first thing, beat the morning rush. At least I can get a proper cup of coffee here. Sondra's the only one who knows how to use our machine. Instant never seems to hit the spot." Richard was rambling now Max realised, deliberately avoiding the reason they were all in this house. But he detected something else in the older man's tone. Jealousy perhaps, at his wife attending to another man, or maybe he was just plain possessive. Max found that he understood both.

Sondra set a cup down in front of Max with a smile and an affectionate pat lingering on his shoulder as she walked away again, Millie stood at the patio door, thoughtfully watching Georgie in his chair staring out at the garden brightly bathed in morning sunlight, at complete odds with the gloom in his demeanour. The sorrow in her gaze made Max's heart constrict. Lies, deceit, subterfuge, dressing the truth to suit his needs, however it might described, had always come so easily. Until now. He swallowed and brought himself back to the matter in hand, the 'softly softly' approach wasn't working and now he had the windfall of Richard's presence. He corralled his thoughts, it was time for some answers.

"Can you think of any reason why someone would want to abduct Carly, Richard?"

Richard looked at Max sharply, his eyes turning steely at the question. "What do you mean? Why would I know anything?"

"You go back a long way," replied Max blandly. "Maybe Georgie has told you something in the past, something that didn't seem important at the time." Richard remained mute. "Or maybe he's in trouble. Needs money?"

"Tell him, Richard. Tell him. If there's a chance, even the slightest that it has anything to do with Carly, he has to know." Sondra's clipped tone cut through the tension between the two men, her authority obvious.

"But-"

"Tell him."

Max waited, he didn't need to say anything, instead Millie turned back towards the room. "Tell Max what, Dad? I don't understand." Here it was, the point of no return, the possible unveiling of a past of which Millie had no knowledge.

"Georgie asked me for money, a few days ago."

"How much?" prompted Max, even though he knew the answer.

"Five hundred thousand."

"How much?" squawked Millie. "What does he need that for?"

"He's got debts. More specifically a big debt to the wrong people. He needs the money to buy his way out of the mess he's got himself into."

"What sort of mess?" she demanded.

"I don't know the details, but he's been playing a stupid game with a Russian, thought he could outwit him, but Georgie's the one who has been stung and now this guy wants five hundred thousand to back off. Something along the line of loss of potential earnings."

"Back off from what?" Max looked down at his hands, finding it hard to listen to the hurt confusion that had crept into Millie's voice and knowing he would surely see it in her face.

"I don't know and I don't want to know."

"Smuggling? Money laundering?" posed Max. He had to ask. No choice.

"I don't know," reiterated Richard firmly, his jaw clenched.

"Were you going to give it to him?" The pitch of her voice rose, slightly strangled.

"Yes."

"Dad! Mum, did you know about this?" Millie turned to her mother who nodded with the tiniest of movements. "I don't believe this," she muttered, clutching her coffee cup so tightly that Max wondered if it was possible she could crush it.

"But I can't get my hands on that sort of cash immediately. It takes time, a few days at least. Georgie understood that, but maybe ..."

"Maybe what?" asked Max.

"Maybe whoever he owes it to doesn't understand. Maybe Carly ..."

"Is this the first time? That Georgie has asked for money?" Richard shook his head in answer to his daughter's questions, eyes closed. "Have you always given it to him?" He nodded. "Why?"

"Because I owe him."

"What? What for?" Max felt so close, so close to getting an answer. It was in Richard's eyes, on the tip of his tongue. A strange sort of excitement thrilled through Max, he was going to get what he wanted, yet it might hurt the woman he loved most. But she needn't worry, he told himself, he'd be there for her, he'd make it all better.

"What's going on? Have you got any news?" rasped Georgie staggering through the patio doors and his cup clattering noisily on the granite counter top. He clearly hadn't slept, his silver hair was unkempt and his clothes mismatched as if he had grabbed random items from his wardrobe and fallen into them.

"No. But don't you think it's time you started telling me what's going on?"

"What do you mean?" he mumbled at Max.

"You need money to settle a debt."

Georgie looked at Richard with angry alarm. "Sorry," Richard shook his head sadly and looked at Sondra for strength before turning back to his friend, "I had to tell them. If there's any chance that Carly might-"

"There's not! I'm telling you, this is down to some ... some psycho who has been stalking my girl. There's no way-"

"You keep saying that, Georgie. But there's no history of threats against her, no reports made. Nothing."

"What about the guy with the tattoo?"

"What about him?"

"I fired him because he was disrespectful to Carly. He's a nutcase, not right in the head."

"You said you didn't know him."

"I ... I was confused, I didn't make the connection. But it's him, it must be him."

"But we can't find him. He has disappeared as well," Max spoke slowly as if talking to a child. "Now, we know that he works for Kiril Barsukov sometimes," Georgie's eyes widened nervously, "and we know that you spoke to Barsukov yesterday, about Carly."

Georgie spun round to Millie. "You, you're spying on me!" She stiffened but resolutely held his stare.

"Millie is doing her job."

"Yeah, of course. I shouldn't have expected anything else," he muttered contemptuously.

"That's not fair, Georgie," broke in Richard, shocked by the attitude of his oldest friend towards his daughter.

"Millie is doing her job because she wants to find your daughter. I don't think you appreciate how hard this is for her, especially when you appear to be concealing information which could help. Or perhaps," Max paused, "maintaining your business empire is more important."

"Max!" interjected Richard. Millie bit her lip, she knew where Max was going with this. She'd seen him in action plenty of times before to know that it wasn't going to be pretty. She had fought hard to prevent it, but then Georgie had let her down and she had to admit there was no other course of action left open. Still, she hated having to watch him do this, especially in front of her mother and father.

"Just a thought. I mean after all, what other reason could there be that you didn't tell us that you had asked Richard for half a million pounds? Or is there something else going on? Something you don't want the police to know about? That might put you behind bars, again?"

Millie watched helplessly as first fear and then fury spread across Georgie's features, turning as ugly as he had yesterday when she had challenged him. Of course she knew he had spent a brief spell at Her Majesty's Pleasure, but that was years ago, before she was born. It had given a roguish element to his character, but her Uncle Georgie was harmless and she couldn't imagine how he would have got involved in something that needed half a million pounds to get out of. She wanted to stop Max, to tell him that he was being ridiculous and insulting. But she didn't know who or what to believe anymore. What had started out as the disappearance of a childhood adversary was getting murkier by the minute. Disturbing her most was the undercurrent of mistrust and secrecy linking the three men in the room. Three men she thought she knew and understood. Millie lifted a hand to her forehead to ease the tension threatening to develop into a full blown migraine that would knock her out for the day if she wasn't careful.

"That's bang out of order, Max!" The cultivated smooth edge to his voice fell away with his anger, letting through the true cockney of the younger man. "Carly's gone missing and you're trying to dredge up dirt from the past." But if Richard had intended for his anger to deflect Max from his course, he found himself disappointed. Max simply lounged back in his chair, his attention still firmly fixed on Georgie. Millie desperately hoped that Georgie would give Max what he wanted, to bring an end to the distress. But the older man remained mute.

"But maybe the dirt from the past is relevant, Richard. I mean, a Russian back then and a Russian now? Bit of a co-incidence, don't you think? Just what is it with you and the Russians, Georgie?" Enraged colour flooded Georgie's face. Max thought he was fit to explode. "Like the colour of their money, do you? There's obviously plenty of it. I went to Mr Barsukov's boat yesterday-"

"Just you concentrate on finding the bastard that has taken my girl and stay out of the rest of my business," spat Georgie venomously, avoiding the stares of both Richard and Sondra who were watching him with growing concern. His breathing was ragged, his hands shaking. "I need some air." Stumbling backwards, he turned and fled from the kitchen back out into the garden.

"Well done, Max" declared Richard sarcastically. "Not sure what you intended to achieve with all that, but I hope you've got what you wanted."

"That man is hiding something. He's got a good idea why Carly has been abducted but he is too scared of losing all this, to come clean."

"You've got no proof of that, nothing to back it up." But Richard didn't sound so certain of himself now in the face of Max's conviction.

"Not at the moment," Max admitted, "but I've got colleagues working on Barsukov's trail and I'm confident that there is a link between him and Georgie's little spell inside." He couldn't be sure but Richard appeared to blanch a little at this.

"Sounds like finding Carly is a secondary concern to you."

Millie flinched at the accusatory tone in her father's voice. "No," she interjected. "That's not true, is it?"

"Of course not! But our chances of finding her are being severely hampered by her father's lack of co-operation. It seems clear who has taken her but I believe he has only done so on the instruction of someone else. Austin isn't bright enough to have planned this, there's someone else pulling his strings."

"This Russian, Barsukov?"

"Yes. Possibly because he is the one calling in the debt. But until Georgie tells us what is going on, I've got nothing to bring Barsukov in for. Nothing. It's up to Georgie. Either he wants us to find his daughter, or not."

Richard inhaled deeply and tipped his head back on the out breath, closing his eyes. "Let me try," quietly adding, "we've been here before."

As he rose to join Georgie in the garden, Millie furrowed her brows in confusion at her father's words, but was immediately distracted by her mother slumping against the kitchen counter, exhausted.

"Mum, are you okay?"

"Er ... yes, darling. All this," she waved a hand weakly, "has made me remember someone I haven't thought of in years. I wonder what did happen to him."

"Who?" But before Sondra could answer, the intercom from the gate buzzed, instantly getting the attention of the room. Millie peered into the small screen. "It's him," she whispered hoarsely before running from the kitchen to the front door. By the time she had reached the foot of the steps, Max had caught up with her and together they raced towards the gates.

"Come on!" Max pressed the zapper at the gate furiously, knowing even as he did so it would be too late. Time stood still while the gates clanked and began their juddering movement. With only a few inches to squeeze through, Max stumbled out on to the street beyond, just in time to see a motorbike turn left and out of view. "Fuck!" He clenched a fist to his head, cursing himself for not being quicker. "Nothing! Not even a partial plate," he raged in frustration.

"Not quite nothing," replied Millie. Max turned back to her, alerted to the concern in her voice to find her carefully puling another yellow package from the rails of the gates.


	19. Chapter 19

**With thanks to Firebird for her encyclopaedic knowledge of all things Manson ... & Lottilexi, if you are reading, just do it, everyone has to start somewhere.**

-ooOoo-

"Yeah, it's good to see you too, Terry."

"Going to be around long?"

"Possibly. That really depends on how this Fleischmann case pans out."

"You mean how long it takes to find her?"

"Hmm, sort of," Neil replied evasively. "Look, I'll catch up with you later. You need to fill me in on how that daughter of yours is doing."

"Ha! Telling the instructors at Hendon how to do the job I think! But yeah, later Boss."

As Terry disappeared down the stairs, Neil became aware of a familiar scent edging past him from behind and towards the doors of CID. "Morning Grace."

"Morning," she smiled tightly, not quite meeting his eyes. She'd been determined to talk to him yesterday afternoon, but her journey back with Max from St Katharine's Dock on the other side of the city had been slow and laborious and by the time she was back at her desk, he was long gone. Instead she had been greeted with a smug smile from Suzie while explaining that he had a long-standing arrangement to see his son that evening. Nothing more volunteered but Grace was left with the definite impression that Suzie had more than casual knowledge of her boss's family affairs.

"Is Max in yet?"

"No, I don't think so. He's probably dropping PC Brown at the Fleischmann house," and probably giving the father a hard time, she added to herself.

"And giving the old man a going over at the same time, I expect," finished Neil for her. Grace blinked, startled by their almost identical thought patterns. "Don't worry, you don't have to say it. But I can," he murmured collaboratively while holding open the door for her to walk though first.

Grace's tight smile widened with warmth. She hadn't imagined their connection yesterday and the realisation filled her with a weirdly tingling feeling, which left her a little heady, if not almost skittish. Skittish? She wondered to herself. When on earth have I ever used the word, let alone felt skittish, but I do. And, I quite like it.

"So, how did you get on with Barsukov yesterday? Max did call but it sounded like a dead end."

"Maybe. Although there was something I wanted to ask you about. But you'd gone by the time we were back."

"Yeah. Long-standing arrangement with Jake to watch Chelsea getting beaten in the Champions League. One of those rare occasions where his pain was my joy," explained Neil with a twinkle. "Philippa took the opportunity to go out with Liam, he's an Arsenal support you see, so it's even worse for him to watch Chelsea play, although he would have enjoyed the result I suppose."

It was a little unsettling that his words echoed Susie's from the day before, but she quashed her disquiet. "That's very civilised of you all."

"Yeah well, Jake's more important than a pointless feud between his parents. We worked that out when he was ill. And anyway, they weren't in so it wasn't as if I had to spend any time with either of them."

"Even so, I'm impressed. Must be difficult."

Neil shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Only doing what's best for him," he muttered, unused to having his mothballed softer side exposed. Susie had been his sole support for so long now that he'd never really had to explain anything to her, the mechanics of his fractured family were just part of their day-to-day lives.

Grace fought the urge to prod further, to find out more about the man beneath the surface while she had this opportunity, but the murmur of voices milling around them grew louder, bodies filed past, ruining the brief quiet they had enjoyed. Regretfully she let him off the hook. "So, Barsukov."

"Yeah?"

Grace noticed he was visibly relieved to be back on less personal territory now that they were likely to be observed. "He didn't give anything away about David Austin or Carly, but when Max mentioned another name, he did look really surprised. He clearly recognised the name but as if he hadn't expected that we would know it. Not that I did and Max wouldn't explain afterwards."

"What name?"

"Antonov. Nikolai Antonov."

Neil rocked back a little on his feet, mulling over how to explain. "Fleischmann was sent down for his part in a smuggling operation about thirty years ago. Antonov was implicated but disappeared before the trial."

"Why would Max bring that up with Barsukov? Are they connected?"

"That's what Suzie has been working on. It's not obvious if they are, we're not even sure that Antonov is alive. She's still waiting to hear back from Interpol." Grace looked around, confused. Suzie was nowhere to be seen yet she was certain that Neil had only just arrived in the station. "Oh, she called me earlier, to remind me about a few things I have to do today," explained Neil, "she's like my personal organiser these days. Not sure how I'd manage without her," he laughed.

On cue, the door flew open. "No!" snapped an irate voice.

"Ah, now Suzie! You need to learn how to have some fun."

"I know how to have fun," retorted Suzie indignantly. The problem was that although she knew 'how' she didn't seem to actually 'do' fun anymore. Tackling the internal politics of Interpol yesterday evening had taken her well into the night at home, alone, with only her neighbours' cat for company. And the occasional message from Tommy to make her wonder what she was missing. Musing on her dilemma, she had concluded that while he might not be the solution, he might be an answer. If she dared. She was bored of living her life only for the job and propping up Neil in place of a real relationship for either of them, and she was lonely. Even the cat wasn't hers.

"But do you know how to have my sort of fun?" Tommy was in full flow banter now. If he tried this with Stevie, his ears would have been well and truly boxed by this point, or she would have taken him up on the offer and he'd be running in the opposite direction as fast as his elegantly shod size nines would carry him. But Suzie was different, a cold enigma, shut down. A challenge, and to his surprise, one he found he was determined to win.

"Guv!" Suzie called, a little more exuberantly than she had intended but relieved to be able to concentrate on something other than Tommy Leighton. "You're here. Oh, hello Grace," she continued, without any attempt at hiding her lack of interest in the older woman.

"Morning, Suzie. Tommy. Anything from Interpol yet?"

"Ugh! I spent half the night trying to convince Gerard Deguis to help."

"Did you use your usual charm?" asked Tommy. "Or did you ask nicely?"

Grace smothered a giggle. Suzie pursed her lips and resolutely tried to ignore the man standing next to her.

"He's in a meeting this morning but," she glanced at her watch, "should call within the hour or so."

"Excellent. Grace? Perhaps you could contact DI Carter and suggest that he gets in before then? In the meantime, I've got a coffee date, ahem ... strategy meeting ... with Superintendant Meadows." Only Grace saw the tiny wink he gave her as he turned and left the room.

-ooOoo-

Millie held the package by her fingertips. Eddie hadn't found anything useful on yesterday's delivery, but perhaps the sender might have slipped up and since there was precious little else to go on, straw clutching was their only chance. She studied the handwriting on the front, frowning. "It's not Carly's writing this time, but it is addressed to Georgie." Carefully she turned the package over but there was nothing more distinguishing to note.

"Come on. Let's get back inside."

"Do you think we should? Let Georgie open it, that is?"

Max took a deep breath. Whatever was inside wasn't likely to be good news, but it might be enough to persuade Georgie to get talking. "Yeah, he should. It's addressed to him."

Millie eyed him suspiciously for a moment, but nodded. As much as she wanted to avoid another scene with Georgie, he should at least be given the opportunity to open it and they would all have to deal with what was revealed. "Okay," she agreed with sad reluctance.

"Millie? Are you alright?" Her lips tightened but she couldn't quite stop them trembling. He moved in closer to tuck a wisp of hair behind her ear. "If you want to step down from here, I'll understand but you're doing everything anyone could expect. I know Georgie's giving you a hard time-"

Millie caught his hand and held it to her cheek, taking strength from him. She couldn't shake off the worry that there was something else motivating Max but she wanted to believe the concern in his eyes. Right now, she needed to believe in him. "I'm okay. All in a day's work, yeah? Come on, let's get this over with."

Hand in hand they walked up the steps, separating only at the door where their professional relationship had to take precedence over the personal. Georgie and Richard had returned to the kitchen, and together with Sondra watched their arrival with wary anticipation. All eyes were immediately drawn to the yellow package in Millie's hands which she placed gently on the table.

"Mum, could we have a pair of scissors please?" Millie asked quietly, donning the utilitarian purple gloves. "Georgie, I'm going to cut this open. There might be traces of evidence so please handle whatever is inside as little as possible."

"Is it from Carly?" he demanded urgently.

"It's not her writing, but it has been delivered in the same way as yesterday and well, it looks the same. So we have to assume that, it is from whoever has her."

Georgie nodded while Millie cut into the packet, opening it enough to allow a hand to slide inside. "You do it. Please," pleaded Georgie. Millie reached inside, first taking out a folded piece of paper. She read it, her brows furrowed and then handed it to Max to take by its edge. He scanned the words quickly before indicating to her to continue. She pulled out a small black box, perhaps big enough for a bangle or watch. She held it to her ear, but it was silent. There was no particular odour emanating and judging it to be safe, Millie opened the lid to look inside. She gasped loudly, struggling for her next breath and taking a stumbling step backwards with the shock. Max caught her, holding her tightly as she clutched the box fumbling with the lid to replace it. "Oh God!" Max gripped her tightly, keeping her on her feet until he could manoeuvre her into a chair.

"What? What is it?" cried Georgie "What's in the box?" his anguish increasing with each word. "Tell me!"

Despite being unwilling to break away from Millie, Max snatched up the box from her hands. If whatever was in it was enough to cause this reaction in Millie, it was likely to do a whole lot more to Georgie. He pulled the lid from the box and took a sharp intake of breath. Three fingertips, each garnished with a candy pink nail, flecked with gold, the bloodless flesh grey and decaying. There could be no doubt whose they were, her garish trademark colour scheme made it obvious enough, the tiny 'CF' initials on one nail were unnecessary for the purpose of identification. He felt Millie looking up at him intently and turned slightly to meet her gaze, as if begging him to tell her that she had imagined what she had just seen. With his attention diverted for the briefest of moments, he failed to notice Georgie lunging towards him and grabbing the open box from his grasp filling the room with an unholy howl, keening with a father's grief for his cruelly mutilated daughter. He fell back against the wall and slid to the floor, the box still cradled in his hands as he cried, tears streaking his cheeks. Max was there in an instant. He didn't want either Sondra or Richard to have to go through the same trauma as Millie if he could prevent it. Quickly Max replaced the lid on the box and took it from Georgie's shaking hands and with one hand at his elbow encouraged him to stand and sit on one of the sofas at the conservatory end of the kitchen. Max glanced back at Millie, silently asking her to join them. With Richard and Sondra in tow, they all waited for Georgie's wracking sobs to cease, for his near incoherent apologies to his daughter to subside.

"Georgie, there is a note. Are you ready?" Still shaking, Georgie nodded at Max. Sondra took his hand in hers and he seemed to take some comfort from her touch. Max unfolded the white paper, pausing for a moment to make sure he had Georgie's full attention. "It says, 'if you want the rest, it will cost £3 million'." Max waited for Richard and Sondra's joint gasps of astonishment to pass before continuing. "Georgie, don't you think you'd better tell us what the hell is going on?"


	20. Chapter 20

There it was, the familiar feeling of euphoria when he made a breakthrough on a case. And this was one hell of a breakthrough. Enough to bring in Fleischmann at the very least, even if all else failed. But what he really wanted now was Barsukov as well and although he was still just out of reach, he was tantalisingly close. Biting back the temptation to grin, Max swung the small yellow jiffy bag in its clear protective evidence bag by his side as he entered the station in search of Eddie.

"_Stay here," he'd urged Millie. "They all need you."_

"_No they don't," had been her glum reply._

"_Come on. You know that's not true. And you wouldn't want a stranger in there would you? I mean it's going to be bad enough, what Georgie has admitted to."_

"_It's going to come out anyway. I feel like such a fool. I always looked up to him, loved him, even when Carly was being a bitch," Millie stopped, as if already speaking ill of the dead. Who knew if that was simply a matter of time, or if it was already too late. _

"_Well, if you really want-"_

"_No, I'll stay. I know you're right, I just wish I could do something useful, make a difference. It's so frustrating being here, making tea for everyone."_

"_I know. Look, I'm going to head back. There's a lot to do and that lot are probably bickering or making eyes at each other by now. Somebody needs to crack the whip."_

"_And you're just the man," she'd smiled warmly, for the first time that day. "Doesn't sound like your two from SOCA are being particularly useful," she'd quietly commented while picking one of her long hairs from his shirt and flicking it away._

"_Er, well, they're okay. Just er, need some direction I guess. I'll call you later." _

He could have told her the truth then and there, that Manson was in the building because he had the same desire to bring down Fleischmann, the one that had got always got away unscathed while underlings took the rap. Hauling in links further up the chain as well, starting with Barsukov would make the careers of all involved and there was no way Max was about to miss out on that. But he could no more tell the truth now than on every other opportunity he'd had. There were always excuses, that her reaction would get in the way of the investigation, that he didn't have any concrete connection between Fleischmann, Barsukov and Antonov, that he didn't have anything other than the suspicion that there was something bigger going on than Carly's abduction. Each reason ran into the other and none of it looked good.

The subterfuge should have weighed more heavily on his mind than it did. But, deftly pushing aside guilt for that, he was already forming a plan by the time he had reached the end of Georgie's road.

-oo-

"Where's Eddie?" Max barked at Jo. He wanted the CSE to get on with this immediately and the man's absence was an irritating delay. It also took the edge off his high, and that was particularly annoying.

"If he's not in his lab, I don't know. I'm not his keeper."

"Well somebody bloody ought to be."

Jo raised her eyebrows. "If I see him, I'll say you're looking for him will I?" she kept her tone sweet, knowing that it wouldn't fool him for a second and earning herself a glare for her trouble. Her smile didn't falter. After all, it was always fun to rile Max Carter, whether he was a DS or a DI, the derived gratification remained ever the same and often the highlight of her day, especially when, like today, it was her turn to be stuck behind the custody desk. "Oh, as if by magic ... Eddie? DI Carter would like a word."

Max spun round, Jo's presence immediately forgotten, and pressed the bag into Eddie's hands. "Fleischmann case. Fingers. Get them photographed and sent to Tommy now. And I mean now. Not in ten minutes. Not after lunch. Now."

"Yeah, yeah. Alright, alright. I get it," but Max had already moved on. "Jeez!" he looked at Jo, "that guy really needs to relax."

"Never gonna happen, Eddie," she replied with a sigh. "Never gonna happen."

-oo-

Grace looked up from the long list of premises owned by Drobyshev Holdings as the door opposite her desk was flung open, the handle hitting the wall noisily. She knew who it was from that alone.

"Thanks for your message Grace. I was already on my way," he eyed her with a look of derision. "But, seeing as how messages are your thing today, perhaps you'd like to find DCI Manson and ask him to _grace_ us with his presence. Briefing room, ten minutes. Think you can manage that?"

If Grace had been the violent type, she would have landed her knee directly into his groin. And laughed. Except she wasn't violent, and she probably wouldn't laugh either. She pulled together what was left of her self-esteem and rose, determined not to show him an ounce of mortification at his public taunting. Yet what really hurt was that by the time she had got to her feet, Max had already turned away and forgotten she was there at all.

"Tommy, Eddie is sending you some photographs, get them printed and pinned on the wall. I'll be over in a few moments."

-oo-

"Okay people. You've probably heard by now, that these," he pointed to the photograph of Carly's fingertips, "used to belong to Carly Fleischmann and were delivered to her father this morning by the same method as her hair yesterday." While in a matter of minutes, the news of the severed fingers had spread throughout the station, the photographs showing the full gruesome detail elicited a ripple of 'euw's and 'oh God's from the assembled team. Max waited for the murmurs to abate, enjoying the theatrics of the situation. Looking down to his left he caught a glimpse of Grace, her top lip curled with disgust at his obvious enjoyment.

"Alright that's enough," piped up Neil, "we've all seen worse. Max, go on."

"So, it's taken these to arrive via courier but Fleischmann has finally coughed. For over a year, quite possibly closer to two years, he has been used as the UK arm of a smuggling ring, mainly dealing in works of art, and cultural and historical artefacts from Eastern Europe. This man, Kiril Barsukov, is behind it, orchestrating the supply and generating the demand from wealthy UK and mainland Europe based Russian expatriates, keen to acquire items from Mother Russia. It seems Fleischmann hasn't had to do much. Provide the storage, entertain the purchasers in the club and clean up any dirty cash through the betting shops. But for that, he's been raking in about twenty per cent of the profits. Easy money and a lot of it."

"So what's changed?" asked Suzie.

"I'm getting to that. It was all going well as far as Fleischmann was concerned. A nice little earner for looking after some boxes and pouring some drinks, but then a couple of months ago it started to get messy. Barsukov began to bring in more muscle to look after the gear without giving any explanation and more or less taking over the Parisa Bar. He told Fleischmann to stay out of it and keep to the rules, no questions but he wasn't having any of it and after poking around found that one of the crates contained a couple of guns. When he tried to confront Barsukov he was threatened by one of the bodyguards and told to back off. That's when Fleischmann realised he was way out of his depth and out of control. Then when word got around that he was looking for a way out, things turned nasty. Barsukov demanded half a million to move on to pastures new but Georgie couldn't come up with the cash quickly enough which resulted in Carly," he tapped at her photograph pinned on the wall, "going missing and the price rising to three million in a note that came with these," he pointed back to the butchered fingertips.

"Bloody hell," muttered Mickey. "Why didn't Fleischmann come clean in the first place?"

"Because regardless of what happens to Carly," explained Max slowly, "Georgie Fleischmann is about to lose everything he has. Money, status, friends."

"And he's willing to sacrifice his daughter for that?"

"So it seems. Not everybody shares your moral standards, Mickey."

"But Lesley, she's his bar manager," he explained to the rest of the room, "said he's a great guy. Adores Carly, looks after the staff. She hasn't got a bad word to say about him."

"It's all part of the act. Georgie Fleischman is only interested in living the high life and playing the role of benefactor. Underneath that though, is greed, pure and simple," finished Max, thinking back to Charlie Hammond's description of the man just two days before.

"What do you suggest next?" asked Neil. "Do you want to bring in Barsukov?"

Max shook his head. "Nah. He'll only deny every word and we'll only have Fleischmann's confession to go on. Any decent brief will have that discredited in seconds. Grace, you've got the list of Barsukov's properties?"

"Yes. All in the name of Drobyshev Holdings. The report from Companies House names Barsukov as Managing Director, the Company Secretary is a local solicitor but I've never dealt with him. "

"Right, well, let's start with the properties. We need to find Carly. When we find her, we'll be able to link her abduction back to Barsukov and from there we can challenge him on teh smuggling."

"But there are over eighty of them!"

"Better get on with it then, Grace. Rule out anything to start with that's a legitimate tenanted business or otherwise high profile. Barsukov isn't likely to want to arouse suspicion by holing her up on Canley High Street. He'll be using somewhere out of the way but with reasonable access and big enough for at least two people. As Austin hasn't shown up, we have to assume that he is still with Carly. So, any warehouses, empty offices, residential properties. Inspector Smith has agreed to let us have some of uniform to help with narrowing the search once we come up with a shortlist. We keep this quiet to begin with, so no search warrants yet. I don't want Barsukov to get wind that we're on to him and then be forced to move her out of the area."

"You think she's still in Canley?" asked Suzie.

"No reason to think otherwise. This is where he operates, it's where he knows. Grace you need to split the list with Tommy and Mickey. Between you, figure out which are the most likely and we'll take it from there."

-oo-

"You didn't bring up Antonov with Fleischmann then?" asked Neil blandly after everyone else had left the room.

"No, it wasn't the right time. Richard and Sondra Brown were there and I don't want to drag them into this if there's no connection."

"But you think there is?"

Max mulled over his response, keeping his fears to himself didn't seem to make much sense now the Barsukov trail was hotting up. "Barsukov's boat."

"What about it?"

"It's the same name as Millie's mother."

"Co-incidence?"

"Her name is Sondra. How many 'Sondra's do you know? And with Richard's involvement, or lack of, when Georgie was convicted, it doesn't feel right. But if I'm wrong ..."

"You will have got them worried for nothing," Neil finished for him. "I assume Millie doesn't know any of this either?"

"No."

"Don't you think she should?"

"She's got enough to cope with. I'll tell her when and if I need to."

-ooOoo-

Millie found herself sitting apart from the older generation, almost as if a barrier hard been erected between them. They were closing rank that much was clear. She wasn't of their era, she didn't share their history, and she wasn't sure that she really understood any of them anymore. Millie sighed inwardly, there was no point her being here anymore. Max had taken his opportunity and he always would, regardless of who was involved, whether family albeit in the wider sense, or not. A weakness had presented itself and he had seized the chance. At least she understood him, perhaps too well. She'd certainly known that working together wasn't healthy or was it their entire relationship that wasn't healthy. Was she only papering over the cracks by selectively ignoring traits that she knew existed within his character to suit a constructed rose-tinted view? She shook her head sharply, physically shrugging off the doubts, telling herself that it was the strain bringing on these thoughts. Of course he was difficult, and insensitive, but he was driven and that was all there was to it. At times she loved and loathed in equal measures. Today had brought nothing new, it was just rather more publicly revealing than she would have liked.

"Mum?" Millie called gently securing Sondra's attention. "I think ..." her mother rose and made her way over.

"Yes darling?"

"I think I should go back to Sun Hill. I can't see what else I can do here. He," she nodded at Georgie, "every time he looks at me, I feel so wretched. I'm sure I'll be more useful at the station and I can call you with news as we get it."

"If that's what you think is best." Sondra took a deep breath. "It brings everything back, from when you ..." Sondra broke off with a frown. In all the drama of the last twenty four hours, caring for Georgie and maintaining what little spirit was left in him, she had managed to suppress the memory of her own daughter's abduction.

"That was different, Mum. Those guys never intended to hurt me. Well, one was quite unstable, but I just got in their way and they panicked. This time, with Carly, it's not the same. Whoever has her always intended to harm her. You shouldn't think of it as being the same, I didn't go through what Carly must be going through. " Millie chewed her lip, not sure whether her mother would find any comfort in her words.

"I suppose so. Oh, Georgie, poor poor Georgie," she turned back to look at the two men in the conservatory, "what have you done?"

Millie placed a hand on her mother's arm. "I need a ride back to the flat, to get my car. Max and I assumed I'd probably be here all day so I didn't bring it."

"Yes of course. It'll give me the opportunity to get a few things, more supplies. I expect we'll be here a while longer. Oh and we mustn't forget the lasagne in the freezer. If you leave it out, it should defrost by this evening. You'll both need something substantial later." Millie smiled, even in the face of such extraordinary circumstances her practicality was unwaveringly reassuring.


	21. Chapter 21

**Oops! I appear to have created a pantomime villainess or two ...**

-oo-

"Thanks, Mum," said Millie, unfastening her seatbelt as Sondra pulled the car to the front of the station.

"That's quite alright, darling. Keys?" Traffic had been appalling, a combination of road works and road closures because of a severe accident meant it had been impossible to get back to Millie's flat without a lengthy detour taking them past the station. Millie had decided that it was for the best to go straight there and let her mother get on and do whatever it was she wanted to do. "I'll pick up a few things for you to go with the lasagne. Some steamed vegetables you can quickly pop in the microwave perhaps. And some fruit, I doubt Max eats enough fruit. And," she leant in closer to whisper even though there was no one else listening, "maybe that chocolate mousse you like so much."

Millie laughed to herself as she reached into her pocket and handed over her set of keys to the flat. "Yeah, anything. Excuse the state of the kitchen though, I didn't get a chance to put everything away this morning. Max was rushing me out the door." Sondra squeezed her daughter's hand, they both wanted to tell the other that everything would be okay, but the latest delivery had blown that possibility right out of the water, at least for Georgie and by association that meant for the rest of them as well. Life was never going to be quite the same again. "I'll call you later and let you know how we're getting on."

Millie entered the station and made her way through the front office, nodding a hello to a PCSO she didn't recognise, but who clearly knew who she was by the widening of his eyes. She flashed her warrant card to be on the safe side and punched in the code for the door to take her into the hinterland of the station. Passing by familiar and not so familiar faces she headed for the coffee machine. Not a patch on the coffee dispensed at the Fleischmann home but somehow she thought she preferred it.

"Back so soon PC Brown?" a voice asked, the accent unmistakeable.

"Oh!" she jumped. "Er, hello Sarge," she turned to see Tommy accompanied by a murderous looking but immaculately dressed woman. Shaking coffee from her fingers she smiled at the woman, who managed only to twitch her lips in a weak effort at smiling back.

"Do you know DS Sim?

"No, are you with SOCA? Max, um I mean DI Carter mentioned that a team from SOCA was helping with the investigation into Carly's disappearance."

Suzie looked at her, slightly puzzled but decided not to make too much out of Millie's apparent ignorance. "Er, yes. I'm here with my boss."

"Oh right. Must admit, I was surprised that SOCA is interested. I mean, it's an abduction, rather than some sort of organised crime, or at least that's how it started. I guess it got a bit more complicated this morning."

"It was always complicated PC Brown and anything involving Georgie Fleischmann interests us."

"I think what DS Sim means, Millie," interrupted Tommy before Suzie could land his boss in it any further, "is that Fleischmann has been on the radar for SOCA for a while because some of his associates are well known to the agency. Isn't that right?" Suzie looked up at him, his glare telling her to agree and keep quiet.

"Hmm," but her acquiescence was unconvincing.

Millie frowned. "I suppose you mean Kiril Barsukov?"

"Amongst others," muttered Suzie, looking past Millie and along the corridor. It was a waste of her time talking to this woman, even if she was DI Carter's girlfriend.

Millie glanced up at Tommy. His expression of nervous concern was one she'd never seen on him before. Something was definitely not right. "So," persisted Millie with forced brightness, "I hope you're settled in and the rest of CID are looking after you. The first few days in a new station are always strange, I suppose, getting to know where everything is, not knowing anyone-"

"I know where everything is," butted in Suzie impatiently. Tommy squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced, there was no stopping the train wreck now. "I used to work here. And so did DCI Manson. I would have thought you knew that."

"DCI ... Manson? Oh, I didn't realise ... and you were here as well." Millie blinked and found herself looking up Tommy who was trying hard to dodge her gaze. "Nobody told me."

"Well, perhaps you didn't need to know," was Suzie's blunt response. "Tommy, I've got too much to do to stand here chatting. I'll see you back in CID."

Millie watched the woman stalk past her, shock playing over her smooth features. "Why didn't Max tell me that DCI Manson is here? I mean, why wouldn't he tell me?"

"Look, Millie, I don't know. It's been mad busy here, maybe he hasn't had time or it didn't seem important."

"Yes, maybe." She tried to smile. Tommy was clearly feeling awkward in the wake of Suzie's tactless revelation and Millie's obvious dismay at being kept out of the loop. She couldn't help but feel sorry for him. "It's okay, I expect Max just," she shrugged, "forgot, or something like that. It's not important."

"No, you're right," Tommy eagerly concurred. "Anyway, does Max know you were coming in here? It's just he's out at the moment, checking some leads with Mickey."

"No, I didn't tell him. I couldn't stand being at Georgie's house anymore not doing anything. I need to do something. I've known her all my life, even if ..." Her warm brown eyes were filled with sadness and right then Tommy knew exactly what it was that Max saw in her. The depth of human compassion he saw in those eyes was remarkable, capable of heating even the coldest of hearts.

"Why don't you come upstairs. We've got something like eighty possible places where Carly could be being held to go through. Max wants them narrowed down into the most likely so that we can put them under surveillance or at least start to track down David Austin. There's plenty for you to get stuck into, I'm sure Grace will be grateful for the help to keep Max off her back," he finished with a gentle laugh. "In the meantime, I've got my hands full trying to keep that one," he gestured towards Suzie's retreating form as she disappeared around the corner, "on a leash. Not sure I'm doing a very good job at the moment," he finished with a wry grimace.

Millie accompanied Tommy into CID, listening intently to the instructions he gave her but she couldn't help noticing that Suzie looked up only for the briefest second before turning back to the screen of her laptop. Close by was Grace, similarly occupied but even less interested in the new arrival.

"Grace!" Tommy clapped his hands together to get her attention. "Millie has offered herself as another pair of hands on this. Give her a half dozen or so addresses from your list to go through, will you?"

"I don't-"

"Just do it Grace," ordered Tommy with a brightness that fooled no one. Suzie smiled into her screen while Grace's features set hard as she irritably shuffled papers on her desk and scribbled a few notes. "Millie, take Mickey's desk for now." Millie sat down and afraid of what she might find, gingerly picked her way through the debris in front of her, eventually finding the desk beneath. "Yeah, sorry about the state of it. Mickey, I'm afraid is a total slut when it comes to tidiness. It's beyond me how he can work like that." Tommy reached across and pulled open a filing drawer half full of random files, paper and chocolate wrappers. "Here, let' shove it all in there, he'll never notice any difference." Millie chewed her bottom lip nervously, wondering why Tommy was so keen to look after her but together they cleared away Mickey's detritus, slamming the drawer shut with a quiet conspiratorial laugh.

Grace had finished compiling her list as the two completed their task. Everything seemed to jar with her today. She felt like a complete outsider, only Neil appeared to show her any kind of kindness and even that was fleeting as he flitted between CID and the Superintendant's office with much time on his mobile in between. She hadn't imagined the arrival of Millie Brown could make her feel any worse. After all, Millie was nice enough, quiet and diligent. But from the way Tommy fussed around her, her status was clear. Tommy was definitely Carter's man and that meant that Millie took priority in the pecking order. She hated this, hated the resentment building within, hated the bitterness she was feeling. It was a world away from how she wanted to be and it was all _his_ fault. "Sarge," she bit out, "the list." She brandished the paper, for a moment guiltily taken aback at Millie's startled expression.

"Thank you, Grace," Tommy's tone was grateful but his eyes were narrowed in warning, clearly telling her to button it.

Millie took the paper from his hand and scanned the addresses quickly before setting to work cross-checking and referencing each as Tommy had explained she should do. She had hoped it would help, taking her mind off the questions buzzing in her head. _Why didn't he tell me? Was he deliberately keeping me away from Sun Hill so I wouldn't find out? If so, why? What possible reason could he have? Why was it so important to him?_ She tried desperately hard to stop thinking, but it was impossible. Unconsciously her thumb repeatedly clicked the pen she held, each click punctuating the thoughts battering the inside of her skull.

"Will you stop that? It's driving me mad!" Grace's exclamation smashed into the silence like a sledgehammer.

"Oh! I'm sorry Grace. I didn't realise what I was doing."

"It doesn't matter," muttered Grace, her words at odds with her obvious irritation. "I need to get some air anyway. I'll be back in ten minutes." Millie glanced across at Tommy who returned her hurt look with raised eyebrows.

"Hmm, it was annoying me too," piped up Suzie casually, intentionally making Millie feel even smaller as Grace stalked from the room. Deliberately, Millie set down the pen, frowning at her ignorance of workplace etiquette.

"It's not your fault, Millie. Grace isn't in a good place right now."

Millie tried to smile, but even she realised that it was more of a crooked grimace. "And I suppose I'm not really helping by being here."

Tommy shrugged. "We're all grown-ups. If she's got a problem with the DI, it's for her to work out, not to take it out on you, or the rest of us for that matter."

"She's got a serious problem," murmured the voice behind the adjacent laptop screen.

Welcoming the opportunity to break away from the uncomfortable topic of conversation, Tommy rounded on Suzie. "Well now, isn't that just the pot calling the kettle black, as my old Nana used to say."

"Is that back in the old country?" retorted Suzie matching his sarcasm with her own stinging derision.

Millie's eyes flitted between the two, and muttering something about also needing some air, she quietly left them to their argument.

As the door swung closed behind her, Tommy instantly turned serious as he hit redial on his phone and waited while for the voicemail to kick in. "Hey Guv, it's Tommy. Thought you'd better know that Millie arrived in the station about twenty minutes ago. She knows about Suzie and the DCI. Sorry, I've tried to keep her occupied but you might want to get back here as soon as you can. She doesn't look too happy."

-oo-

"I swear, Jo, I don't know how much more of this I can take. Every time he talks to me it's laced with some jibe or insult. The man is bullying me out of here."

"Alright, calm down." The station was quiet with most officers out on patrol, which meant that Grace's unusually strident tone echoed down the corridor. "Get yourself in here before someone wonders if you've lost it completely. Is it really that bad?"

Grace took up the invitation into the Sergeants' office and slumped down into a chair opposite her friend. "You're not up in CID when he's at his worst. Honestly, what he said to me about passing on messages, it was as if he was saying I wasn't fit for anything else. He's even got me beginning to wonder-"

"Now hold it right there! I won't have you talking like that. You are one of the best of that lot, certainly the most efficient."

"Well, it doesn't count for much does it? Not with DI Carter anyway, and he's got Meadows in his pocket these days so that I've got no chance of rescue there either. And now, I've got his girlfriend sitting opposite me!"

"Millie? Is she here?"

"Yes. She's just come in unannounced with DS Leighton who has foisted her on to me, 'to help'."

"Millie's alright. God knows what she sees in him but there's no accounting for taste."

"She's a fool!"

Jo blinked at Grace's sudden vehemence towards a woman she barely knew. "Bit harsh."

Grace sighed loudly and ran a hand through her hair. "Well, she is if she thinks he's so devoted to her."

"What do you mean?"

"Yesterday morning at Carly Fleischmann's salon, he was ... 'talking' to one of her staff. She was all over him and he wasn't just letting her, he was actually encouraging her and loving every minute from the look on his face. She was almost sitting on him and he didn't even try to back away. Perhaps he likes the cheap tart look or maybe he just isn't fussy. You know, if I hadn't walked back in ... ugh," Grace shuddered, "he makes me sick." Seeing how Jo appeared unconvinced by her description of her boss's lecherous behaviour, Grace went on. "And, on Barsukov's boat there was a girl, couldn't have been any more than nineteen or twenty ..."

"Grace, don't you think you're overreacting just a bit?"

"No! You haven't had to deal with this and now I'm expected to have to work alongside his girlfriend and not say anything?"

"But he hasn't done anything, not that you know of anyway. Grace, don't you think you're losing perspective? Sure, Max Carter is well, Max Carter. Unreasonable, unpleasant and insensitive. But unfaithful? I don't buy it. I've seen him when Millie is around, closest thing to Jekyll and Hyde if you ask me."

Grace felt herself deflating. Maybe she was developing tunnel vision where her boss was concerned. "But that's not all," she challenged for a last rally, "accordingly to DS Sim, Carter hadn't told Millie that she and Neil Manson were here. I don't know why he didn't but it was bloody clear when Millie came into CID. Oh she tried to put a brave face on it, but it was pretty obvious. And there something else, when we were on Barsukov's boat he mentioned another name. Nikolai Antonov. He wouldn't tell me anything but Neil-"

"Neil?" asked Jo with raised eyebrows.

"DCI Manson," Grace corrected herself awkwardly, "said this 'Antonov' was involved when Fleischmann was sent down thirty years ago."

"Any connection to Carly's abduction?"

"No one seems to know, or more likely, no one is letting on. Manson was really cagey about it."

"You know what I think?"

"Go on."

"I think you are beginning to sound just a little bit irrational-"

"You mean paranoid?" accused Grace.

"Maybe," agreed Jo kindly. "You've been talking recently about possibly moving on, perhaps it's time. Not that I want to see you go, but better that than get stuck in a role you're not happy in and completely lose faith in yourself. Trust me on that one," she added grimly pulling at her uniform. "At this rate, I might not be far behind you."

"That bad?" asked Grace, suddenly a little sheepish at her ignorance of her friend's woes.

"That bad. Anyway, enough of this, let's get some coffee flavoured water and cheer ourselves up. It could be worse, at least neither of us have to go home to Max Carter every evening!"

"Yeah," laughed Grace quietly, "even an empty flat is preferable to that."

"And," continued Jo, "I'm dying to hear all about what's going on with you and Neil Manson. Stevie-"

"Stevie the gossip-fiend?"

"The very same!" laughed Jo, "she told me you were looking pretty cosy with him yesterday, so I want to know exactly what is going on."

Hearing the scraping of chairs as the two women got to their feet, her part in their conversation over for now, Millie darted around the corner from the sergeant's office and out of sight.

-ooOoo-

Sondra scrunched the plastic Waitrose bags into her jute eco-carrier, ready for next use, their contents already neatly stacked into the orderly cupboards of Millie's kitchen. Remnants of washing up left out from the night before had been similarly dealt with and everything was in perfect order for the occupants to return to later that evening. There wasn't much else she could do to help Millie and Max, but she could do this. She looked around, searching her head, certain that she had forgotten something. The lasagne was still in the footwell of her car. Grabbing the door keys she stepped back out into the bright sunshine to retrieve it. A van was parked close to her car, its darkly tinted windows caught her attention, she was sure it hadn't been there before, but during the mornings the security gates weren't very secure because they allowed in anyone who knew to press the 'trades' button on the key pad. Dismissing any thoughts of suspicion, Sondra reached into collect the dish. As she stood and stepped back to close the door, she became aware of a shadow looming over her from behind but before she could turn an arm gripped her, pinning her tight. The dish fell to the ground with a crash. She opened her mouth to scream but another hand, filled with cold damp cloth covered her nose and mouth, she struggled, but with each movement her grip on consciousness weakened. She tried frantically, desperately to keep hold of the fading light but it was too hard and with one last jerk from her body her resistance was over.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N Sorry this is so long, it got out of hand & I couldn't stop ... contains references to L&K.**

-oo-

On something close to autopilot, Millie managed to reach the doors of the front office and out to the street beyond before the fragile veneer of her controlled facade began to crack. She had ignored the wary glances shot her way by the two PCSOs behind the desk, vaguely hearing their whispered chatter as the doors closed behind her with a gentle thud. But if she was hoping for fresh air to clear the fug inside her head she was disappointed. Outside, it was still heavy, clogged with fumes, the air only moving with the draught of passing cars. Her head hurt with the tension of holding back the urge to scream and from fighting the wave of nausea threatening to overcome her body. It had been bad enough for Suzie to belittle her. Millie didn't know the woman so she could choose to believe it was just her unpleasant nature, nothing personal even though her dismissal had stung all the same. But although Grace had never precisely been a friend, it was devastating to learn that she believed Millie to be a fool. But of course, that's exactly what she was, wasn't she? At least, that's what everyone else thought. She looked back over her shoulder, the two PCSOs were gawping through the glass, apparently fascinated by the minor spectacle of the DI's girlfriend in a state and it was enough to shore up her battered self-esteem. She wasn't a fool, she wouldn't be a fool. With her fingers at her temples she eased away some of the tightness, taking as deep breaths as she dare without blackening her lungs with polluting gas. Was Max capable of cheating, she wondered. Could he? She dismissed the notion, they'd only just got engaged, surely that counted for something? But perhaps he might in the future, after all he had a twisted past, could she really count on him to be straight with her, as long as they both lived, in the words of the vows?

Millie chewed on an already ragged fingernail before cursing herself for not leaving it alone. She'd have to beg a nail file from someone now. With a sigh she realised how useless it was to ask these questions of herself. There was only one way to have them answered. After permitting a few more seconds to pull her mind back together, Millie pushed away from the fence and made her way back towards the station entrance. As she walked a black cab drew up and parked ahead of her. From it appeared a woman, long brown hair and dressed in some sort of short belted denim playsuit, skimming her upper thighs to reveal orange-hued legs ending in a pair of stacked heel lace up shoe-boots. Millie blinked at the ensemble, despite its skimpiness it was hardly practical even in this heat. But she looked down at her own effort today, her usual cropped jeans, cotton shirt and comfortable loafers, and felt like a complete dowd. With a heavy heart she followed the woman into the station, relieved that the PCSOs would have someone else to focus their attention on.

"I want to see DS Max Carter!" the voice demanded sharply.

Millie froze, her hand stretched out to the keypad. The voice was vaguely familiar but she couldn't place it.

"Sorry, but he's not in at the moment," replied the younger officer nervously. Millie felt his eyes on her. "Can anyone else help you?"

"No, I need to see him. It's important."

Slowly Millie turned and immediately recognised the woman as being the one standing next to Carly in the salon, when she had visited earlier that week. Jessa, she remembered from her extravagantly gold embellished name badge. "Perhaps I can help. You work for Carly Fleischmann don't you?" Millie kept her voice level, was this the woman who had, in Grace's opinion, had so appealed to Max? Was she the one he had flirted with, just days after asking her to marry him because he couldn't imagine life without her by his side? Maybe _this_ was what he liked after all.

"Yeah. It's you isn't it? You look ... different in _those_ clothes," the woman curled her top lip into a derisive sneer as she sized up Millie's appearance from head to toe and back again. Their eyes met in stand-off for a moment before the woman's mouth formed an ugly smile. "No, I don't want to see anybody else," abruptly turning back to the PCSO and dismissing Millie. "I want to see DI Carter and I know he'll want to see me."

-oo-

Max squeezed his eyes shut. The message from Tommy had come out of the blue. He'd fully expected Millie to stay with Fleischmann and now he felt like a complete idiot for his naive assumption. He also had only a few minutes to get his story straight before Mickey left him at the station and went off to talk to Lesley at the Parisa bar again. As the seconds ticked by, the station drawing ever closer, Max was still no clearer as to how to defend his economy with the truth. He'd have to rely on her good nature and understanding. Or better still, there might have been a significant development while he was out and could hide behind that for a while. Clutching at that unlikely straw, Max reluctantly opened the car door.

"Call me as soon as you've talked to her," he ordered curtly causing Mickey to raise his eyebrows. After all, both had decided that Lesley was unlikely to give them much more, it was a long shot asking her to get closer to Barsukov's men but having spent the last hour and a half picking his way around two of Barsukov's slum-like properties they had agreed that they needed someone inside the organisation, and Lesley was their only chance.

"Yeah, sure Guv, but-"

"Just do it Mickey, we've already wasted half the morning, I want to see some results," he snapped, slamming the door shut behind him. With all his attention focussed on the phone in his hand, Max didn't notice the fracas threatening to take over the front office until the doors had shut behind him. If he had, he would have taken the long route to the rear of the building and slunk in without attracting any attention.

"Look for the last time, I am not interested in talking to you," shrieked a voice.

"And I've told you he is not here," retorted Millie firmly. "If you want to talk to someone in CID, then you'll have to take a seat ..."

Max looked up instantly, taking in the scene. His eyes darted from the PCSOs sheltering behind the front desk, to the rear view of a woman with unnaturally tanned skin but with very good legs, finally coming rest on the expression of his fiancé who was now watching him stonily. Max swallowed and faltered for just a moment, wondering if it was too late to back out of the doors and escape from the lot of them, but of course it was. The woman spun round, her eyes glittering with triumph when she caught sight of her quarry, giving a sly glance back at Millie.

Max squared his shoulders and smiled. "Hello Miss Bennett," he fixed his attention on her, "you wanted to see me?"

"Oh," Jessa breathed, softening her stance and running a hand through her shiny dark hair, letting it come to rest on the lapel of her playsuit, pulling it slightly to reveal a heaving expanse of tanned, plump flesh. She toyed with the fabric and pulled at the gold chain around her neck, while catching her lower lip with perfectly white even teeth. "I've been so scared since you left the salon yesterday." She walked towards him, coming to a halt only a few inches away. Her perfume, heavily sweet, the same as the day before, invaded his lungs threatening to choke him. He would never have to see her to know she was close by. Her intention was as clear as it had been the day before. She was interested, very interested and a couple of years earlier he would have been interested too. The ideal type for a casual fling with no strings, someone he could walk away from when the sex failed to compensate for other inadequacies. It was undeniable that she had a great body, slender arms, full breasts that would call out to any straight man, a nipped in waist perfectly curved for an arm to snake around and hips leading to luscious thighs, perfect for spreading and... Max shook himself inwardly to bring his wandering mind back to heel. Over her shoulder he caught Millie rolling her eyes up toward the ceiling with irritation and his shame immediately dampened any ardour that might be developing against his own better judgement.

"Really? Has something happened?"

"Er, no, but I feel like I'm being watched. I heard that she has been kidnapped by some freak. What if _he_ comes back? I need protection."

"Miss Bennett, Jessa," Max instantly regretted using her name as she seemed to take it as invitation to move in even closer, brushing against him seductively. "There's no reason to believe that you are in any danger. But-"

"Yes?" she whispered, her darkly kohled eyes filled with the fear of a damsel in distress in need of her knight, her glossy lips quivered.

"Oh, please," muttered Millie. Her headache was returning. There was something so familiar about this woman. Not physically but it was in her manipulative manner, the way she used her body to appeal to Max and make sure it left Millie feeling vulnerable. She had never known how to play those games.

"If you are worried," Max tried to continue.

"Yes?" Jessa edged closer still.

"Then," he persevered doing his best not to be forced into retreat, "I suggest you stay with family or friends for a few days. Maybe you should keep the salon closed for a while and I'll ask one of my colleagues to keep you informed."

"Oh," her disappointment was palpable. "But he might find me! Isn't there anything _you_ can do?"

He felt her hand come to rest on his arm and gently he prised it off. "Miss Bennett, there is no reason to believe that you are in any way connected to Miss Flesichmann's disappearance. I'm sorry, but unless you can tell me otherwise, I'm in no position to offer you protection."

Jessa's expression grew indignant from his rejection. She clenched her jaw and pulled herself up a little taller, coming to terms with her failure. "Well, I just hope you're right," she bit out tersely and with a brief hate-filled glance over her shoulder at Millie, stalked out of the station.

With the barrier between them gone, gone was also any hope Max might have had that he could avoid Millie's displeasure. Mindful of the two PCSOs still watching what was the highlight of their day and would surely be round the station within a matter of minutes, Max walked over to where Millie stood, hoping that she would meet him halfway. She didn't, instead defensively folding her arms in front of her body.

"Millie," he spoke softly reaching out to touch her arm but she jerked away and his hand found only air. She stared back at him coldly, giving him nothing to encourage his hope that she would be receptive to his explanation. "Millie, please. I can explain."

"Oh I bet you can," her hushed voice filled with bitterness. "I bet you can explain why you decided not to tell me that Manson is here. And just why is he here?" she hissed. "Is that something to do with it? What is it that you don't want me to know? And," she couldn't stop herself from continuing, what about her? Why was she so certain that you would want to see her?"

Max ran a hand through his hair, catching the PCSOs out of the corner of his eye. He took a deep breath. "Not here, somewhere quiet." Millie held her gaze, making him wait for her answer before finally pushing past him and into the small interview room just off the foyer. With a sigh of relief he followed and leant back against the door, pushing it closed and obscuring the glass panel.

"Go on," Millie instructed quietly, standing in the corner of the room, as far away from him as she could get.

Max rubbed at his forehead, wondering where to start, grateful that she wasn't bombarding him with any more questions. "Alright. Manson is here because he's been tracking Georgie for years, even while he was DI at Sun Hill, but until now there's never been enough to pull him in on."

Millie frowned. A day earlier she would have protested Georgie's innocence but that was no longer possible. Her Godfather had been fooling them all. "Okay," she had to concede that this was entirely understandable. "But why didn't you tell me? Why?"

Max struggled with his answer, it didn't make any sense now. "I don't know. I didn't want you to think we were hounding Georgie-"

"We?" she cocked her head to one side. "I take it you shared Manson's interest in him? Is that it?"

Max hesitated, answering her question truthfully was going to open the floodgate. He had a choice. Either come clean or bullshit his way out of telling her anything. He closed his eyes for a moment and realised there was no choice. "Yes," he nodded slowly.

"You've been investigating him? That's why you were so familiar with his businesses yesterday."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me this?" she demanded angrily. "Why did you keep me in the dark? I suppose everyone else knows."

"Because I knew how you would react. You'd tell me that I had it all wrong and was looking for something that wasn't there. That he's a wonderful man who wouldn't harm anyone, wouldn't get involved in anything illegal."

"No, I-"

"Oh come on Millie, you know you would," he fired back in frustration. "And anyway, it's not all about what I want." He stopped abruptly.

"What? What do you mean?" Max looked away. "Tell me what you mean. Look at me!" Millie's voice rose sharply.

"A few days ago, I overheard your parents talking," he mumbled.

"Overheard? Or were you listening in? Spying?"

"Passing by and happened to overhear. I heard them talking about Fleischmann and ..."

"And you couldn't keep walking," Millie finished, noting his guilty reaction. "So, go on. What did you find out?"

"Only what you heard this morning from Georgie. That he was asking your father for money and that your mother agreed that he should have it."

"And? That's not it is it?" Max held her stare. "Is it?"

"You don't want to know."

"No, of course I don't. You know best, better keep it to yourself, eh?"

Max blinked, for a split second hoping she was being serious but her words dripped with a sarcasm that was unmistakeable and he hated her being sarcastic. His hackles rose defensively. "I have only been trying to protect you," he retorted, his anger beginning to match hers.

"Oh that's good, because I can't handle the real world."

"Will you stop being so fucking sarcastic!" exploded Max.

"Then will you stop being so fucking controlling!" she shrieked back.

"Okay, you want to know the truth? Your mother only agreed to let Georgie have the money on the condition that it was the last time and that all ties with him would have to be cut. She wanted him out of your lives."

"No! I don't believe you. Mum could never-"

"Could never what? Be so hard? So callous? I think you underestimate your Mother. She and your Father have sheltered you from birth. They've done you no favours."

Millie flinched at Max's statement, so closely echoing Georgie's view. "So now you're saying that I don't even know my own parents?" she countered. "What the hell do you know about family anyway?" Millie spat out before she could censor herself, the hardening of Max's features telling her that she had struck a low blow. But she was too strung out, too confused to stop. "And what about her? Jessa?"

"What in God's name are you talking about now?" he wailed.

"I know that you were leading her on yesterday, I heard Grace ..." but this time she did stop herself to look down at her hands, unable to speak her own suspicious thoughts for fear of them being true. Max's eyes narrowed, a cool fury taking root. He shouldn't be angry at Millie, after all he was the one who had been less than truthful, but if Grace had opened her mouth to Millie about his subjective tactics, then he would gladly take her as substitute to vent his rage on. Quietly Millie continued, "You've humiliated me. I thought I was playing an equal part in this investigation, in us, but you've deliberately kept me out of the loop."

"Look, Millie, I'm sorry but I've explained the reason why I did what I did. If I could turn back the clock then maybe I would do things differently-"

"Maybe?" exclaimed Millie.

"But I can't change what's happened and finding Carly is more important than this."

"Oh, I'm glad you think so, because for a moment there I thought putting Georgie behind bars was the most important thing to you!"

"Now you're being ridiculous!"

"Yeah, that's right. Ridiculous, nothing between the ears-"

"Will you stop bringing that up! It was years ago."

"Except that maybe nothing much has changed." The pair stared fiercely at each other for a few moments, both wondering if a line had been crossed and if there was any going back. Into the void between them however piped Millie's ringing mobile. "Hey Dad," she answered, forcing stiff calm into her voice.

"Hello, love. Are you still with Mum?"

"No, she brought me into the station a couple of hours ago."

"I thought she was taking you back to get your car?"

Millie frowned at the agitated edge to his voice. "Change of plan, traffic was terrible so we came here first. She wanted to do some shopping and then drop it into the flat on her way back to you. Have you called her mobile? I'm sure she had it with her."

"Of course I have, but it keeps ringing. I've left two messages but she hasn't called back. I'm getting worried."

Millie's blood chilled. Her mother always answered her mobile, and always returned messages, especially from her father. "Well, maybe she's lost her phone somewhere, or had it stolen," but Millie didn't believe her own words. Sondra was too organised to lose her phone and not realise quickly enough to let her husband know so that he wouldn't worry. It simply wasn't possible and even as she spoke she knew her father wouldn't buy it.

"No, that's not it. Something's happened to her. Can you find out if her car has been in an accident?"

"I guess so, but-"

"Please Millie," pleaded Richard anxiously.

"What is it?" asked Max, his tone serious as Millie disconnected the call having agreed to do as her father asked.

"It's Mum. Dad's been trying to get hold of her but she hasn't answered or returned his messages."

"Well, like you said, she's probably lost her phone, or left in the car while she's shopping."

Millie shook her head jerkily. "No, no matter what you think," she stared at him accusingly, "I know my mother. She would never, never allow any of us to worry about her like this, especially with Carly ..."Millie broke off for a moment. "I want to go home, maybe she's there. She might have had an accident ... or something."

"Sure, er," Max looked at his watch, there was so much he wanted to do here, Grace being at the top of his hit list.

"Look, if you're too busy, I'll find someone else to drive me over there," snapped Millie, "obviously I can't rely on you," she added bitterly.

Max hesitated as she stalked from the doorway. "Shit," he muttered irritably, following her back out into the foyer and guiltily aware that despite his attempt at honesty, he had made no mention of Nikolai Antonov.

-oo-

The security gates opened more slowly than Millie had ever noticed before. As they rolled forward she scanned the car park, searching for Sondra's car, her heart sinking as she realised it wasn't there. She had pinned her hopes on finding her mother here, uncharacteristically unaware of the concern she had caused. Millie would even have settled for her mother being injured and unable to make contact with her family but even that was dashed by the largely empty parking bays. Max pulled into his usual spot, his phone ringing as he cut the engine and Millie got out.

"Yeah, Tommy?" he answered, watching Millie wander over to what looked like some rubbish on the ground close to the steps up to the door of their apartment. His brows furrowed as she crouched down to inspect whatever it was at her feet. However, his attention was diverted by the information Tommy was feeding him. He absorbed it in something of a haze, mechanically ending the call. His feet took him to where Millie was now standing.

"This is Mum's lasagne dish," she held one broken piece in her fingers, staring at it in disbelief. "Why-"

"That was Tommy. Your Mum's car has been found. It's been abandoned and set alight."


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N – okay, time for a bit of suspension of reality, but isn't that what fanfic is all about? **

-oo-

"Wait, Millie!" Max followed Millie as she bounded up the steps to the door of their flat, reaching her she turned back to face him.

"Keys! Give me your keys, I gave mine to Mum." Max hesitated, struggling to decipher the rapid fire of her words. "Keys!" she demanded again, frustrated that he wasn't being quick enough and thrusting her hand into his jeans pocket to pull out his set of keys.

"No!" he tried to wrestle them back from her as her shaking hand lifted them to the door. "You don't know," he began. Her hand stalled, still trembling. "We don't know what's happened here. Let me go in first." He reached up and covered her hand with his. She relinquished to him, trying to force out of her mind the possibilities that lay behind the door. Max turned the key and stepping past her entered the flat. He looked around, no sign of any struggle but plenty of evidence that Sondra had been inside. Nodding back at Millie, she followed him in. Sondra's brown leather handbag sat on the dark granite counter top, vegetables and the promised chocolate mousse lay piled next to the fridge, ready to be stacked away, Millie keys were next to the sink. But there was no Sondra. Millie ran frantically from room to room, checking each in the hope that she would be hidden away somewhere, but the flat was just as they had left it that morning.

"She's not here," cried Millie fearfully. "What's happening? Why is this happening?"

Antonov, Max wanted to say, but there was still no reason to give for his suspicion and he couldn't explain that. "I think we should tell your Father."

"Oh my God," whispered Millie, "he'll crack. We can't tell him, not yet, we have to find her," rambled Millie, looking around the room as if by magic Sondra might suddenly appear.

Max walked over to where she stood and pulled her close, closing his eyes as she allowed herself to soften against him, wishing it hadn't taken this to bring about their rapprochement. "We have to tell him. This isn't just about Georgie. I hoped it was, but whatever it is, Richard and Sondra are involved as well. I just don't understand why."

The brief moment of closeness dissolved as Millie pulled away sharply, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. "What is it? What else haven't you told me?" she beat out each word on his chest with her clenched fists.

Max stared back at her, allowing her the anger she needed to vent, wishing she would cry. At least then he could try to hold her while she wept. There was nothing he could do when she was like this. Calmly he took each blow until her energy was exhausted and she backed away. "Let's go. Richard will need you."

-oo-

Having tasked Tommy with getting hold of the CCTV footage of the car park from the security company that managed the apartments, Max drove Millie to Georgie's house in silence. Millie was numb, unable to force out tears that she knew should flow. But she couldn't understand what was going on to feel any of it. It was as though everything was happening to someone else. Still too angry with Max to be able to turn to him, to trust him with her confusion, she held it all inside, a jumbled mass of questions and half-assumed answers. She tried to think of anything, anyone that might explain why her mother had been taken, anyone who might want to destroy her father as this surely would do. But there was none, her parents were well-liked and respected, regarded as kind and benevolent. At least her mother was, she knew her father could be cantankerous, but that was only when faced with incompetence. It all came down to Georgie and the shadows of his world which somehow had now engulfed theirs. And Max knew, at least he knew something and that was more than she did. She fisted her hands, her nails digging painfully into her palms.

The gates to Georgie's house opened automatically, as they had done earlier that morning, but this time Richard stood on the steps instead of Sondra. "Well?" he demanded of Millie as she got out of the car before Max had even the chance to cut the engine. He saw that Millie was struggling to speak and leapt out, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Richard, let's go inside," suggested Max softly.

"Why? Where's Sondra?" panic entering Richard's voice.

"Inside, please," Max stared at the older man firmly, the closest he had ever come to issuing an order to him. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have dared, but this time Richard complied almost limply. They moved through the house into the kitchen. Georgie was still slumped in a chair in the conservatory and empty glass on the coffee table in front of him, staring out at the garden. Max took a deep breath, there was no way to do this kindly and he knew Richard would only be angered if he believed he was being pitied. "Sondra's car has been found, burnt out just like Carly's." Richard fell into a chair next to him staring up at Max with wide eyes, mouth open in shock. "Millie and I have been back to our place, I'm waiting for CCTV footage, but it looks like she was abducted from there." Max watched Richard's disbelief grow with each word, the full horror setting in. "Look, I know this is hard but is there any reason, any possible link between you and Georgie beyond friendship, anyone who would do this to both of you? Who would take the people who mean most to you both?"

Slowly Richard shook his head, glancing back at the man in the conservatory unaware of the latest development. "No. We've been friends since we were kids. I mean we had a few business deals long ago, but since then, nothing. Just mates. I love him, he's a brother to me, but we ... you know we're different. Our businesses, well they don't really mix," Richard explained carefully.

Max longed to make him clarify, to say outright that Georgie was a crook while he was entirely legitimate, if only to prove the point to Millie, who stood next to her father, her hand on his shoulder and deliberately avoiding any contact that Max tried to initiate. He sighed, frustrated at how difficult everyone was making this. He wanted honesty, freely given information but it seemed both Georgie and Richard were determined to hide their sins. "Richard, look, I've been checking into Georgie's criminal record." That attracted Richard's attention once again. "I need you to tell me, who is, or was, Nikolai Antonov?" Max watched as the name played on Richard's lips, silently mouthing them as if slowly becoming re-accustomed to their rhythm, his brow furrowing just as Millie's did. Father and daughter had little in common in looks, she being so like her mother, but the sudden similarity was striking.

"What did you say?" a drunken slurred voice called out from the conservatory. "What was that name?" Georgie heaved himself up and staggered towards the half empty bottle of scotch on the counter top.

Max turned back towards him. "Antonov. Nikolai Antonov."

The glass clattered across the granite as Georgie looked first at Max and then to Richard. "Niko?" he whispered shakily.

"He's dead. Isn't he? That's what you told me." Richard stared at Georgie. "You told me he was dead!"

"I thought ... I thought he must be dead, there was no way he could survive where they were going to send him."

"So you didn't know, not for sure," Richard leapt up and flew across at Georgie throwing him back and pinning him against the wall. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?" he roughly shoved his oldest friend.

"Dad!" exclaimed Millie as Max jumped in to separate the two men and guiding Richard back to his seat.

"Sit down," he ordered. "And you," turning to Georgie, "sit there," he pointed at a chair opposite Richard, the table keeping them apart. "Now, I've had enough of both of you holding back. Whatever happened, I want to know, before anyone else goes missing." Max looked briefly at Millie, it had already occurred to him that if Carly and Sondra had been taken, then perhaps she or Tara might be next in line.

"Anyone else?" ventured Georgie weakly.

Richard glared at him. "Sondra has ..." he blinked, unable to continue.

"Sondra? No! Oh God, no!"

"Talk, Georgie. Now," Max demanded.

"Georgie closed his eyes, summoning up a past he wanted to forget had ever taken place. "I suppose you know that I was sent down for my part in a smuggling ring, thirty years ago?"

"Yes," replied Max, out of the corner of his eye he saw Millie sit down silently next to her father, his hand finding hers for comfort.

"Nikolai Antonov worked at the Soviet Embassy, he was a spy I suppose. They all were back then, everyone in the embassies were spies of some sort. He was a Russian, our age, enjoyed the high life. Well, coming from Mother Russia he would have done, anyone would have. He loved the west and everything it had to offer, especially money. We met at a party up west, him me and Dickie. It's where we met Sondra for the first time, we thought we were really living it, mixing with high society. It was at some nightclub in Mayfair, Sondra was there because her Dad was something big in the Foreign Office at the time so she was in with that crowd. Niko was with her, not with her as in going out with her, but he wanted to."

"She didn't," interjected Richard.

"No and that was a problem. Anyway, me and Niko hatched a few plans for some easy money. Smuggling into the Soviet Union anything from western clothing, jeans, trainers, even perfume to cars," Georgie glanced pointedly at Richard. "Anything that he could sell back home through his contacts. It was simple. He was doing well at the Embassy and knew who to give the backhanders to for the goods to have clear passage. So easy. Until he pissed off his boss with his new flash lifestyle and not being a good Commie anyway. That's when it all started to close in on us. I didn't know your lot were watching me."

"You were arrested?"

"Yeah. I was given a choice. Give up Niko or go down for the whole lot."

"So you gave him up?"

"Yeah. Dickie and Sondra were getting close, I knew he'd fallen hard but Niko was always there, hanging on, getting in the way. And the game was up for our racket. It was over, so I cut my losses and did my time."

"What happened to Antonov?"

Georgie shrugged listlessly. "He was taken away. I heard that he'd been put in some Siberian camp that no one ever left so I assumed ..."

"That he didn't?"

Georgie nodded.

"Well I think he is back, and somehow he's connected to Kiril Barsukov," explained Max.

"Why?" demanded Richard.

Max pursed his lips, hesitating to reveal more of the suspicions he had withheld from Millie. "Because of the name of Barsukov's boat." All eyes were on him expectantly. "It's called La Sondra II. It feels like too much of a co-incidence." What little colour had been in Georgie's faced drained away and his eyes glazed. "You think I'm right, don't you? Why? Answer me, Georgie?"

"Because ... because the last time I saw him, he told me that he would come after me and everybody that I love. No matter what it took, I'd pay for betraying him and taking away what he loved most."

"Money?"

"No. Sondra."

Richard stood, scraping his chair on the stone floor and shrugging off his daughter's comforting arm. "I don't believe this is happening. Why the hell did you have to get involved with another bunch of Russians? Why did you have to drag us all into this?" he shouted furiously. "If that bastard harms Sondra, I'll kill you for this."

"Me? So this is all my fault? I went inside for you, or have you conveniently forgotten that?" replied Georgie equally angrily, stilling Richard for a moment. "I didn't have to take the rap for you, I could have ..."

"Could have what?" prompted Max.

"Nothing," muttered Georgie, slumping back into his chair.

"Richard?"

"Dad?"

Richard held a hand to his head and sighed. "I'm sorry, Millie. I never wanted, and your Mother certainly never wanted to know about this."

"About what?" asked Millie softly. "Please, Dad. I need to know."

"I ... I was involved in the racket, sort of. Georgie used to ask me where he could find certain cars and ... I would tell him. I'd tell him so that he could get them stolen to order. I'm not proud of it and I only did it a few times, but Georgie split the profit with me and it was enough to set me up in partnership at the first showroom. It gave me the chance to get started, to be able to support your Mum, all of you." Richard hung his head, resting it into his hands. "When it all blew up ... I didn't know what to do. I wasn't very savvy back then, wet behind the ears still. The cops knew I was in on it and I was interviewed," he looked up at Max, "but I suppose you already know that." Max nodded slowly, avoiding Millie's silent accusing stare. "But," Richard sighed, "one day I was in the station and the next I was off the hook. Georgie took the rap for it all. It was only later that we understood why," he finished wryly.

"And?" asked Max.

Richard looked nervously at his daughter. "I'm not sure I should say ... I mean I don't think it's relevant."

"I think you should let me be the judge of that, don't you?"

"Maybe," he sat back and eyed Max, for the first time feeling inferior to his future son-in-law. "Sondra's father was a high-ranking civil servant in the Foreign Office, very near the top. Very well connected. He knew of Niko, knew his reputation and knew that he had taken an interest in Sondra. They met at a diplomatic function I think. Malcolm, didn't like it, not at all but he thought his daughter was safe, it wasn't as if Niko could ever become his son-in-law. But then he heard murmurings that Niko was planning to defect, he certainly didn't want to go back to Moscow and leave his London life behind. So, Malcolm made sure that Niko was removed and unfortunately Georgie and I got caught up in it. By then, Sondra and I were, well ... close. Very close. In fact Millie, you were already on the way. Your Grandfather didn't know that of course when he set his plan in motion, he had no idea about us. He only found out when I got pulled in and he realised that although Sondra was upset for Niko, she was beside herself over me. She told him she was pregnant and he was furious, but for all his faults, he always loved her and made sure I walked away from it all."

"He used his influence? That's why you're not mentioned in the case file?" asked Max neutrally.

"Probably. Aside from anything else I suppose, it would have been too embarrassing to have the father of his grandchild locked up for smuggling. He's never really forgiven me for it though, only started to accept me when I made enough money to make it easier to bear."

The room lapsed into silence. Richard and Georgie both somewhere in the past, Max and Millie coming to terms with the revelations of spies and smuggling. Max mulled over his next move and regretfully coming to the conclusion that he was no further forward. No closer to finding Carly and now Sondra. To Millie, her father's story helped answer a few questions she'd had since childhood, but it only made her want her mother even more. Despair threatened to fill her heart as she stared down at the table. A chair scraped next to her and familiar fingers found their way to her thigh under the table. She looked at Max, feeling herself wanting to crumple against him, to feel submerged in his strength and protection. He increased the pressure, reaching out to her, silently asking her to let him look after her. He felt her soften but the quiet was suddenly interrupted.

"Why didn't you go straight, Georgie? Why did you have to always want more?" asked Richard sorrowfully.

"Oh it's so easy for you to be sanctimonious, isn't it?" replied Georgie belligerently. "But don't you forget that if it wasn't for me, you would never have got where you have. You had nothing! I made sure you got the money, I kept quiet for you, did time for you!"

Colour flooded Richard's face, his entire body appeared to shake with fury, his fists clenched. Before Millie could hold him back he launched again at Georgie, this time his fist connecting loudly with the other man's jaw, knocking him frpm his chair to the ground in a sprawling mess, his drunkenness making it impossible for him to defend himself, let alone retaliate.

"Hey, hey, hey!" cried out Max, hauling him back and away from the prone figure on the floor.

"Get me out of here. I want to go home, before I ..."

"Do what Dickie?" Georgie taunted. "You never did have the guts-"

"That's enough!" shouted Millie, surprising Max with her vehemence. "No matter how much you try to make excuses, this is down to you. You made your choices and now we all have to live with them!" She stopped, suddenly aware of the unintentional strength of her outburst. "Dad, perhaps we should go. Tara ... she should know and I think ... I think we should be at home."

-oo-

Time sped by and with what seemed only a matter of minutes Millie and Richard were safely bundled into the back of an area car driven by Ben, closely followed by Nate who just managed to keep his joy in check at being given the job of driving behind them in Richard's Mercedes.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N A rather difficult chapter to write and therefore not one of my favourites, but please bear with me ...**

"_They're here."_

"_Right. Dad, let's go. Dad?"_

"_Hmm? Okay." _

_Richard had aged ten years in the twenty minutes or so since Max and Millie had broken the news. Millie helped him to his feet, shrugging off Max's effort to help her, making it clear that she didn't want him. Not that she needed to, he'd already got that message. He'd suggested going back to Epping with them, but Millie had frozen him with a glare that left him in no doubt he was a long way from forgiven. "Hadn't you better find my mother," she'd told him bitterly, "I wouldn't want to slow you down with my emotional reactions. I wouldn't want to get in the way of your big result." It had hurt, really hurt. It hurt so much that she couldn't see how all he had ever wanted to do was protect her and her family. Sure, bringing down an international crime ring and thereby banking a few brownie points for his next career move might have been a welcome bonus but that's all it would have been. A bonus, not the reason. Absolutely not. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't understand why Millie wasn't seeing that. But it wasn't the time to try to explain again. She wasn't going to listen and in a way she was right. He needed to find Sondra and Millie was better with her father, safely tucked away where she couldn't distract him with her pain. If he didn't see her then he could almost pretend that this was happening to another family, not the one he had come to consider his own. If he didn't see her then he could block out her bitterness._

During the drive back to Sun Hill, Max replayed their last moments together, over and over. Having seen her father into the back of the area car, Millie had turned back to Max holding the door ready to close it behind her. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears and for a moment he thought she was going to let them fall but instead she had pulled herself up a little straighter and raised her chin a little higher. Even so, her lower lip quivered. He edged forward to pull her to him but her rigid demeanour stopped him in his tracks and instead he let her turn away and get into the car. She didn't look back when he closed the door with a soft thud.

Max reached the station with a decision made. He could dwell on the personal or deal with the reality. Two women were missing, one had already been mutilated. He wasn't going to let it happen to the other. For the third time that day he walked in to the station, this time from the yard at the rear, just in case Jessa had decided to put in another appearance. He didn't need more of her overpowering perfume and predatory attitude. Making his way through the corridors and up to CID, he was aware of various uniformed officers watching him surreptitiously but he ignored them all.

"Tommy, get everyone together. I want to know what we've got. Ten minutes."

"Got it, Boss."

Max turned away and took a step towards his office, well aware of Grace's shoulders slumping in relief as he did. He stopped and slowly looked to the side at her taking a degree of pleasure in her tightening posture as she realised she had not quite escaped.

Grace was used to his derision, used to the appalling tone he often used when speaking to her. But there seemed to be an edge of malevolence in his manner this time that quite honestly chilled her to the bone. She waited anxiously, wondering what it was going to be this time, holding her breath as he stepped back and leant in towards her menacingly.

"I want to talk to you. Later. I hear that you've been telling tales."

Grace blinked, shrinking under the force of his stare which pinned her into her seat. "I-" she began, before realising the futility of any kind of defence. It would only serve to give him more satisfaction. Instead, she took the hit with as much dignity as she could muster.

The door swung open, distracting Max from his quarry and reminding him that he had more important matters to deal with.

"Max? I was sorry to hear about Millie's mother," said Neil compassionately.

"Er, yeah," he replied shortly, turning away from Grace to give his superior due attention.

"How is she? Tommy said that she and her father left Fleischmann's place."

Max ignored the question. He couldn't say exactly how Millie was because she wouldn't give him any clue about what was going on inside her head. All he knew was that right now he was the focus of her anger and he would do anything to put that right. "Richard wanted to go home. He blames Georgie, so does Millie for that matter."

"Hmm. Well, he may have a point there, as you know."

Max stiffened. The earlier collaboration in their mutual mission to bring down Georgie felt uncomfortable and he found he really didn't want to dwell on his part in it. "Look, I'll see you in the briefing room in a few minutes," and with a swift reminding glance back at Grace, disappeared into his office.

"Is he alright?" asked Neil, puzzled by Max's evasiveness. "Perhaps he's too close to all of this," he mused. Grace said nothing, earning herself a questioning look. "Are you okay? Grace?"

She closed her eyes, her lips tightening.

"She upset the DI's girlfriend," interjected Susie sharply and with a measure of glee that made Neil frown.

"Susie," he warned.

"Well, she did. Honestly, it's like working with children here," scowling at Mickey as he walked past and deflecting the small ball of rolled up paper he hurled at her as if to prove her point. "See what I mean. Children."

"Hey, Mickey!" exclaimed Tommy who was close behind him. "Leave DS Sim alone, it's my job to be the pain in her backside, and one that I am enjoying very much," he finished with a wink, sliding into his chair at the desk next to hers.

The banter continued and Neil realised that Susie was enjoying it, in her own particularly dismissive way which over the years he had come to recognise as flirtation. Grace however was still morosely silent. "What happened with Millie?" he asked quietly enough that the rowing children couldn't hear, dragging a chair over to sit beside her.

"I snapped at her. Just for a moment, it was nothing really."

"Then why so glum?"

"I might have said a few things afterwards, to Jo. In confidence, I wasn't gossiping," she pleaded, "but ..."

"But?"

"Millie must have overheard, or maybe someone else did and told her and now her mother is missing. Sometimes I feel like I'm losing control, coming apart," she rambled. "I'm so tired of it all. I needed to talk and Jo was there. I didn't realise anyone else was as well."

"You could have talked to me. Away from here."

_Away from here. _Her heart skipped a beat at his proposal but reality could never be far enough away for her to hope he might really mean it. Grace gave a little wry laugh and shook her head sadly. "No. No I couldn't. I might have done once, but then you ..." she furrowed her brow, thinking back to the last time she'd seen him before he'd walked back into her life. "I need to get some air before the briefing," she muttered, stranding abruptly and making her way past Neil towards the door.

"Again? We all need air, but most of us don't need to get up and go somewhere else to get it," commented Susie smoothly as Grace skirted round her and reminding all that it was impossible to have a private conversation in such a place.

"Susie! That's enough! You're not helping anyone," snapped Neil impatiently, torn between letting Grace go and haring after her. It was only Tommy who noticed the hurt that streaked across Susie's features at the rebuff.

-oo-

"So," began Neil with a swift glance at Max. They had agreed that in the circumstances it was probably best for him to lead on this briefing. "As most of you know, Sondra Brown was abducted this afternoon from the car park of Lansdowne House on Harleyford Avenue. Sondra is a family friend of Georgie Fleischman and is also PC Millie Brown's mother." He stopped for a moment, allowing time for the inevitable glances and murmurings in Max's direction. True to character, Max didn't flinch, as if completely unaware of any connection between him and the photograph of the elegant woman on the board. A photograph he had taken only a few days earlier on his phone having announced his engagement to her daughter. "Tommy, you've got the CCTV footage?"

"Yeah," he waved the remote control at the large flat screen, bringing it to life. "Two unidentified men get out of a white van while Sondra is leaning into her car. As she stands up one of them grabs her from behind and cover her face with a cloth, she struggles then appears to lose consciousness before they put her into the back of the van and drive out of the gates."

"How did they get into the car park? Isn't there a security gate at Lansdowne House?" asked Mickey.

"Anyone can get in during the morning, you only have to press the trades button," answered Max matter-of-factly. Neil had to admire how coolly detached he was, not a flicker of emotion.

"Not much of a security gate then," Mickey observed, receiving no more than a shrug from Max in return.

"We've checked local CCTV but the van turned into a side street and we lost it," continued Tommy.

"Any idea who these men are? The smaller one looks like it could be David Austin," asked Mickey, leaning forward to take a closer look.

"It's possible, yes," agreed Neil.

"But why? What links Sondra and Carly that someone would abduct both of them?"

Max took a deep breath, he hadn't been looking forward to making Richard's murky past association with criminals public knowledge. "I believe that although Kiril Barsukov is somehow behind their disappearance, he isn't the one pulling the strings. Back in the early eighties Fleischmann and Richard Brown were involved in a smuggling deal with a junior diplomat in the Soviet Embassy. Nikolai Antonov. Antonov fell for Sondra but she rejected him in favour of Richard and to take him completely out of the picture Georgie made sure in his confession that Antonov was sent back to Russia."

"I've been looking into the case for a while," said Suzie. "Antonov was sent to a prison camp in Siberia but as yet I haven't been able to find out whether he was released, escaped or died there. He seems to have vanished at some point in the mid nineties."

"Have you got any link between him and Barsukov?" asked Max.

"Only that they were born in the same town near St Petersburg a year apart."

"It's a good enough connection," agreed Neil.

"How do you know all this?" asked Mickey with surprise.

Suzie regarded him coolly. "I have contacts. It's not hard when you know the right people."

"But we still don't know where he is and we haven't anything solid enough to bring Barsukov in on," mused Max.

"We need Austin," said Neil firmly. "If he is this guy," he pointed at one of the figures on the screen, "then perhaps we can get something out of him. Eddie has sent off samples of skin from under Carly's nails for analysis," another quiet 'euw' rippled around the room, "and I'm willing to bet the DNA will belong to him. But the results won't be with us until tomorrow at the earliest."

Max pushed himself away from the wall which he had been leaning against. "Tommy? Suzie? You both spoke to Austin's mother, didn't you? Get back there and put pressure on her. She needs to contact her son. Get her to leave a message about something urgent so that he calls back. We can trace him from there. I don't care how you do it just get her to make him call. Better still get her to arrange to meet him."

Tommy nodded, glancing across at Suzie for just long enough to bring a little colour to her cheeks. "I think we should be able to manage that."

"Mickey? What did Lesley say?" Max turned his attention to the scruffy DC.

"She agreed to do what she can but it's difficult, Barsukov's men are all over the place. She thinks it's only a matter of time before they takeover completely. Apparently one of them let slip that Fleischmann will be signing over the bar to Barsukov in the next few days."

"To raise money to pay the ransom perhaps?" suggested Neil.

"Or instead of paying it. I don't believe that Fleischmann has assets worth three million these days," Max stated bullishly.

"Do you think the kidnappers aren't expecting the ransom to be paid?"

"I think that if it is Antonov behind all this, he's after more than money. He wants Fleischmann to pay with everything he has. Money, family and friendships and if that hurts Richard Brown as well, so much the better."

"Revenge?"

"Maybe."

"Couldn't it be a simple case of extortion? Is this Antonov really involved? It's a pretty tenuous link," commented Grace, surprising herself with her interruption into what had become a two way conversation between Max and Neil, but feeling it needed to be said.

Max shrugged, surprising Grace even more that he didn't launch an attack on her for being naive. "It's a possibility," he sighed looking back at Sondra's picture. But if that is the case, why would he take her, outside my flat? No, there's more to it."

Mickey was the last of the procession to file out of the door and was nearly though it when he paused and took a step back to face Max. "I told Lesley about Sondra. I think that was what really convinced her to help us. She said she'd met Sondra a couple of times, said how kind she always was."

"Is, Mickey," snapped Max. "Is. She's still alive as far as we know, and I'm going to make sure she stays that way."

-oo0oo-

Gradually her eyes focussed on the pattern of the bed linen beneath her. She sniffed, a damp musty smell filling her nostrils. Sondra blinked, the only movement her body seemed able to make. Cautiously she stretched out her fingers, swallowing with relief that they responded and giving her the confidence to move her arms and roll from her side on to her back and stare up at the ceiling. It was a depressing view of grimy aertex plasterwork with black mould collecting in the corners. Panic bubbled within, an unfamiliar feeling but it was definitely panic. She swallowed again, conscious of the tight dryness in her throat. Water. She needed water, she'd feel better after a drink. Having a purpose, a goal, sharpened her mind and fought back the panic. As the kneejerk fear subsided, her awareness of the room increased and a small noise alerted her attention to the fact that she was not alone in the room. Stiffly she pulled herself up and looked around. Her hand flew to her mouth at the sight of the shaking bloodied bundle on the floor, cowering in the corner of the room. The creature was feral-like, frightened even by Sondra's slow movement. It took a second or two, but slowly Sondra realised who she was.

"Carly? Carly, is that you?" The woman blinked frantically into the middle distance between them, clutching a bandaged hand to her chest, her knees drawn up to her chin. "Oh my poor child!" exclaimed Sondra, instantly forgetting her own aches and clambering from the bed to crouch next to Carly. She flinched but only for a moment before her wide terrified eyes made contact with Sondra and allowed the older woman to envelope her. Sondra held her for what felt like several minutes, stroking Carly's back soothingly, determined not to let Carly see her distress. This creature couldn't be further away from the Carly she knew. Her hair shorn, cut roughly, leaving tufts and near bald patches. That alone would have degraded Carly more than almost anything else, taken away her identity, her self-worth. But it hadn't been enough for whoever had captured the pair of them. Carly's bloody bandaged hand was proof of that. Holding her tighter, Sondra resisted the fear rising again. Determined that they would both survive this.

Eventually, after many murmured words of comfort and reassurance, Sondra eased Carly out of the corner and on to the relative comfort of the bed. Still unable to speak, Carly lay her head into Sondra's lap and curled up in a foetal position next to her. With a sigh, Sondra closed her eyes and rested back against the headboard, stroking the remains of Carly's hair, her lower lip trembling as her fingers came into contact with the coarse stubble in amongst the longer tufts. She shivered at the sadism of whoever had done this. She knew evil existed, or rather that some people were capable of committing evil deeds, but she had never imagined for one moment that it could happen in her world.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N Ta muchly to Firebird, Feebee and Kit for the reviews (v. pleased to know there is a Suzie fan out there!) ... and now, still keeping reality firmly suspended ...**

"Guv!" Mickey called across the room to Max as he walked back in with Neil from meeting Meadows.

"Yeah, what is it?" both men replied simultaneously before exchanging awkward glances with each other.

"Um, yeah," Mickey's eyes flitted between the two as if unsure who it was wise to address directly. Manson was undoubtedly senior of course, but he had to deal with Carter every day. There was no contest, he gave his full attention to Max. "Lesley just called. She's been digging around Georgie's office while there was no one about. She says he keeps a cabinet of keys for a few properties he owns, not many so she knows what they are all for. But there's one set missing for an old storage unit round the back of the Larkmead estate. Apparently Georgie planned to sell it but the market has been so bad that he couldn't get the price he wanted. It's been empty for months."

"Maybe Georgie has the keys?" suggested Max.

"Nah, at least she doesn't think so. She said he would have told her. Lesley ain't no ordinary bar manager, she's been like his right hand for years. But I suppose we should ask him. It might not be anything, but maybe Barsukov isn't using any of his properties at all, maybe he's using Georgie's? Have we got anyone over at his place now?"

"Yeah, Inspector Smith sent Roger down there," Max paused, mulling over whether to go back to Fleischmann himself, if only for the opportunity to vent some of his frustration. Slowly he became aware that Mickey and Neil were waiting for his next command. "Mickey, get Roger to check with Fleischmann, but in the meantime think we should get down to. I'll call in CO19."

**-ooOoo-**

There was something about summer in London that made the traffic seem worse than ever. Having been holed up in an office for so long had made Suzie unaccustomed to the sheer boredom of crawling at a snail's pace for mile after mile.

"Are they digging up every road round here?" she muttered irritably.

"It seems that way," replied Tommy languidly.

"Doesn't anything ever rile you?" she asked, his apparent effortless cool was a constant source of frustration. "There must be something."

"There probably is, Suzie." He smiled, shifting the car into third gear for only the second time in the last half hour.

She sat back into her seat, annoyance gripping her that he always had the upper hand, always niggling below the surface to find her weaknesses, or at least that's how it felt. But there had been something she said that had wound him up, something about his father. She smiled inwardly as she remembered how he had lost some of that cool. "So, what made you join the Met?" she asked nonchalantly, studying her nails. He looked sideways at her for a brief moment, snapping his attention back to the road ahead. "I mean, it must have been a big deal to come over here from Northern Ireland, leaving friends and family behind." He didn't answer but she noticed with triumph that a muscle in his cheek clenched and his knuckles whitened against the dark steering wheel. Silence hung between them while Suzie stared out of the window, deliberately provoking him to respond.

"It was no hardship to leave home," he mumbled eventually.

"Why was that?" she asked with all innocence.

The car ahead came to a sudden stop, forcing Tommy to slam on the breaks albeit with possibly more aggression than was necessary. He turned back to Suzie and stared with narrowed eyes. Suzie began to rather regret her previous desire to rattle him as he had been rattling her since they first met. There was something so hard in him, his laconic aura suddenly gone. "Why are you so interested?" he demanded.

"I – I ... just curious, that's all," she finished weakly.

He regarded her for a moment longer before setting the car back into first gear and on their journey with a little laugh that set her nerves further on edge. "You know, for a smart woman you can be surprisingly dumb sometimes. You only had to put my name into google to find out what you want to know."

"What?" She chose to ignore the jibe.

He sighed. "I left Ulster because I couldn't l live with what my father was, with what he had done."

"What had he done?" she asked, aghast at having joked the day before that Leighton senior may have been a serial killer.

"Thomas Leighton," they were back into third gear again, "was a fundraiser for the IRA. Actually he was an accountant but that was only to hide what he was really doing, for the cause." Suzie's mouth jaw dropped, she couldn't believe that she didn't know. In fact she was furious with herself for not knowing, having always taken pride in her near encyclopaedic knowledge of the Met's most interesting characters. He glanced to the side and laughed. "Yeah, that's how most people react when they find out."

"But ... but ... how ... why did you join the police? I wouldn't have thought doing that would have gone down well."

"That's exactly why I did. My father disgusted me. The idea that it is acceptable to sacrifice the lives of innocent people in the name of a united Ireland disgusts me. The worst thing I could have done to him was to betray his ideals, so that's what I did. There was no way I could get into the RUC, and I wouldn't have wanted to anyway, so I left home when I was eighteen, got a job here and eventually a place at Hendon. The day that I told him that I had passed and joined the Met was the best of my life."

"Bloody hell," swore Suzie softly. "What about your mother? What did she think?"

He shook his head. "She would never choose me over my father. Love being blind and all that," he snorted derisively. "Well there you go, that's the short version anyway. Satisfied?" he concluded as once again he pulled up outside the fish and chip shop in Stanhope Lane.

"Umm, yeah, I guess," answered Suzie slowly, "for now," she added as she got out of the car and followed him up to the door of number 37a. Tommy glanced back at Suzie over his shoulder as he pressed the doorbell. Plenty of people knew his story, he was used to that, but he had rarely told it himself, never being particularly interested in righting the misconceptions that may have caused by rumour and gossip. What had started out as the desire to damage his father had long since faded as he found that he loved the job and the purpose it gave his existence. He preferred not to think that perhaps it was a trait he shared with his father. Telling Suzie felt cathartic, getting the words out hadn't been so difficult after all. And besides, she did look particularly cute in shock.

Mrs Austin answered the doorbell almost immediately, which came as no surprise to Tommy and Suzie. Her principle activity each day appeared to be watching the world go by, in and out of the chip shop, from her armchair in the front room.

"Sergeant Leighton," she gushed, patently ignoring Suzie next to him. "Please come in," she stood to the side welcoming him into the house, giving Suzie only the merest of glances. "What can I do for you?"

Tommy sat on the sofa closest to the armchair, his most charming smile radiating at the older woman. Suzie marvelled at him, only moments ago he had been filled with bitterness. Not a trace of that remained.

"Mrs Austin, the truth is, we need your help," he said earnestly.

"Oh, really?" she asked with girlish excitement. "Of course, anything. But first I think we need a nice cup of tea." The charming smile faded from Tommy's lips as she busied herself out of the room, the sound of the kettle boiling and cups clanking onto a tray from the kitchen beyond. Suzie took the opportunity to study the family photographs littered among the crucifixes, Madonnas and aging fake flowers cluttering almost every surface. She winced at the awkwardness, the unattractiveness of this family but had to feel sorry at the point in young David's life where three had become just two. She looked across at Tommy, suddenly realising that he had spoken of his father in the past tense. Her thoughts however were interrupted before she could give them voice by Mrs Austin returning to the room, balancing a tray laden with teapot, cups and a large variety of cheap sugary biscuits. Tommy leapt to his feet, gallantly taking the tray from her hands and carefully laying it on a table between the armchair and sofa, encouraging her to sit in the chair next to him. With seemingly practised ease he began to pour, having checked her preference for tea or milk first. Mrs Austin smiled at him over her cup.

"So, how is it that I can help you?"

"It's David," he watched as her smile faltered for a moment. "I'm sorry, Mrs Austin, but we believe that he ... he may have been taken advantage of. You said yesterday that he is a good lad and we believe you," he glanced up at Suzie who nodded in a non-committal manner. She knew her response didn't matter, Mrs Austin had only eyes for the darkly good-looking man in her front room. "But, the man he has been working for, Kiril Barsukov, is someone we know to be involved in criminal activities. We believe that that he is behind the abduction of two women." Mrs Austin visibly bristled prompting Tommy to continue swiftly, "and that if he is, then he may have taken advantage of David's good nature and be using him to do his dirty work."

"No!" she exclaimed hotly. "No! My Davey would never-"

"Your Davey probably didn't even know what he was getting into until it was too late," soothed Tommy. "I know you've only ever done the very best you can for him, and I know it must have been hard for you to bring up the boy alone." Suzie had to turn away at the butteryness of his tone, flattering every fibre of this woman's being but she couldn't deny that it was the only tactic likely to work. "You've done a fine job, and I'm sure you've had to pull him back on to the straight and narrow plenty of times. Boys will be boys," he added cheekily drawing the smile back to her lips.

"Well, yes, it has been hard sometimes. I'm sure your Ma had to do the same with you." Suzie looked across sharply but found herself almost disappointed to see no reaction from him, his features gave away nothing.

"Perhaps this is one of those times? Perhaps you need to step in and pull him back into line."

Mrs Austin looked uncertain, setting down her cup and saucer with shaking fingers. "I don't know," she said quietly. "He doesn't listen to me so much these days," she finished with sad reluctance.

"We need to get him away from Barsukov, before something terrible happens. Before he gets himself into trouble that you can't get him out of."

"What would I have to do?"

"Just call him. Tell him that he needs to come home urgently."

"How?"

Tommy appeared to think seriously, although Suzie knew he had everything planned before they had even left the station. "Tell him that you've been threatened. That you're scared and that the police won't do anything. Do you think that would work?"

"I don't know. I don't know if I should. Sometimes he gets ... quite angry with me."

"But he's a good boy at heart, isn't he? If he believes you are frightened he'll come home to his Ma, any decent son would."

"But when he finds out-"

"Sure he might not be so happy at first, but we'll explain to him that this is for his own good, that you are looking out for him as any mother would. We don't want to see a nice lad led astray by a nasty piece of work like Barsukov. He'll understand," he reassured her.

Mrs Austin gazed at Tommy. Suzie felt quite unnerved by the faith the woman seemed to put in his words. He was certainly good at making women fall for him she mused, hoping that it wasn't happening to her as well.

Less than half an hour later, Suzie and Tommy were back in the car. This time he had tossed the keys to her before getting in the passenger side and settling back into his seat, eyes closed. "Tommy?" she asked softly.

"Not now Suzie. When this is all over, I promise you can ask your questions then. Although," he wriggled into a more comfortable position, "I'll not guarantee to answer."

**-ooOoo-**

"Millie? It's me."

She took a sharp breath and paused before replying quietly. "Hi. Is there any news?" she asked flatly, not daring to hope.

"Some. We've found where Carly was being held but there's no sign of either her or Sondra."

"How ... how do you know it's where Carly was?" she fought to keep her voice level.

"Her hair, there's still some left on the floor." He didn't go into the details. The filth of the room, the disgusting mattress on which she must have slept, the stench of the bucket left behind and kicked over by accident by one pair of very careless CO19 size nines. He didn't want her to know about that. It was enough that he was wondering if Sondra was being held in such similar conditions, he wouldn't have Millie thinking the same thing.

"Right."

"We've started talking to local residents," he carried on quickly, "not that there are many of them, but so far we have a report of a white van with blacked out windows leaving the building sometime yesterday evening. We might be able to pick it up on CCTV although I suspect the route out of here was planned so that they avoided the cameras on the main roads and stuck to the back streets. But maybe ..." he trailed off. He faltered, unable to conjure up the usual confidence he had when talking to a victim's family. It had been almost easy to detach back at the station, but talking to Millie made it real. "How are things?" he asked finally.

Millie felt her eyes burn. She blinked furiously. She wanted him to be with her, to hold her and tell her that everything was going to be okay but his earlier deception had made that impossible. He had betrayed her trust in him and unleashed a myriad of latent insecurities. His arms could no longer promise her the safety she so desperately craved. At least here, in her family home, she had thought she would feel safe from what he could do to her, even if there was a terrifying hole at the heart of the house. She looked around the kitchen, Sondra's place of work at the helm of her organisation. Her food fuelled and her love gave strength to all she cared for. It was empty without her, and cold.

"We're fine," she stated sharply, shutting him out, dissuading him from further entreaty. She had neither the energy nor the wits to figure out his motives right now, it was easier to keep him away until this was over. A shudder ran through her, the prospect that _this_ might not end with her mother's safe return never far enough away. She wished she could be as naive as so many thought her to be.

"I'll come over, later perhaps?"

"No. There's no need. I think Dad ... he's really struggling, it's better if we are alone together."

That stung. Max had come to believe that he was one of them, that he had a place inside this family but Millie was shutting him out. "I see," he took a deep breath. "Is Tara there?"

"Yes."

"And Guy?"

"Yes."

So Guy was allowed to stay, but he wasn't. The fact that Guy had nowhere else to go didn't figure large in his thoughts only that the newcomer was allowed his place but Max wasn't.

"Where was Carly held?" asked Millie into the silence.

"An old storage unit that belongs to Georgie. His bar manager alerted us to it, she noticed a set of keys were missing from his office."

Millie winced. For Carly to be held at a property belonging to her father felt like a carefully planned, malicious strike at him. "And Barsukov?"

"Still nothing to bring him in on. We're working on the rest of the property portfolio but I doubt he is stupid enough to use one of them. We need to find Austin. He's our only link. Tommy and Suzie are working on that right now but I doubt we'll track him down until the morning."

"The morning?" echoed Millie weakly.

Her quiet anguish cut into him. "Please, Millie, let me-"

"Millie! Who's that?"

Max could make out Richard's familiar voice in the background although it sounded unusually subdued.

"Dad, it's Max ... look Max, I've got to go-"

"No! Millie, wait. I want-"

"I've got to go," her voice cracked.

"Please, I-" he pleaded, but it was too late, she had already disconnected the call.

**-ooOoo-**

The rest of the day passed by in a timeless blur for Millie, only noticeable from the movement of the sun casting increasing shadows across the garden until eventually the dusk claimed what little light remained and swiftly plunged the kitchen into darkness. She had barely moved from the small sofa in the kitchen, wrapped in her mother's finest cashmere. No matter how she had tried to make her father comfortable, it was clear that she wasn't helping by being there. More than once she had seen the bitter disappointment in his eyes when she had gone into his study with offers of coffee or tea. It was obvious that at first he had seen her mother, the resemblance so striking, only to have his hope crushed. Millie stopped going into him, sending Tara instead. Even Guy was more use than she was, having expertly whipped up an array of dishes from the leftovers in the fridge, much to Millie's surprise. Normally everything would have been devoured, but nobody except Guy had much appetite today. She hugged her knees closer to her chest and shivered beneath the wrap, not that it was cold. She was tired, but her mind still raced, sleep wouldn't come without help. She knew that. She knew that she needed to rest but the thought that she might miss that vital call kept her awake, albeit groggily.

Numbly she unfurled her legs and pushed herself up to stand and climb the stairs to her parent's bedroom. Tara had earlier made up a bed for Richard in his study after he had emotionally refused to sleep in their bed surrounded by the possessions and smell of his missing wife. The cabinet in their bathroom contained those magic little pills, essential in times of trauma. She held the small bottle and read the instructions carefully even though she knew exactly what they were, seeking any reason to delay sleep, just in case the phone rang. One or two? Or just half? Millie pondered. Just half, just in case that call came. She didn't want to be too out of it to respond. Just enough to stop the whirring in her mind and the aching loneliness in her heart. Was this how she was going to have to go on? If both of them left her life?

By the time she reached her own room, Millie was already beginning to feel the effects, although it might simply have been natural exhaustion taking hold. Slumping to her bed, her eyes fell on the telephone on the nightstand. Gingerly she picked up the handset, trying to figure out what she wanted to say, what she wanted to hear from him. Her fingers curled around it, but then, gradually, her grip loosened as she drifted away from consciousness.

**-ooOoo-**

Max knew the flat was going to be empty but it still felt unnatural to walk in knowing that Millie wasn't there because she didn't want to be with him. He'd worked late, poring over every file, reading every scrap of paperwork that was connected to the disappearance of the two women. There had to be a mistake or an oversight somewhere and he was fixated on finding it. But, if there was a discrepancy his tired mind was unable to locate it and shortly after midnight he had conceded defeat for the night. The remains of Sondra's shopping were still on the counter next to the fridge and mechanically he began to stack it away, barely registering the range of perfectly ready prepared vegetables that she had bought with their busy lives, and Millie's limited culinary skills, in mind. He deliberated over whether to crack open a beer and before common sense took hold he grabbed a bottle from the bottom of the fridge, reaching into the drawer to the left for a bottle opener.

Turning as he prised off the top he caught sight of the pencil drawing on the wall. It was as if she was in the room, staring at him over her shoulder, accusing him. Normally he found the portrait seductive, often arousing after a drink or two, but not now. He longed to reach out and stroke her naked spine, to bury his face into her cascading hair, to beg for her understanding. Not for forgiveness though, still certain that he would do it all again. But she wasn't here and she had refused to let him join her, locking him out and withdrawing her affection. It felt familiar, horribly familiar. Back to being a little boy, craving warmth but always shut out in the cold or in the dark. He took a long inward breath and squeezed his eyes shut. There was nothing more to be done now until the daylight of the morning came and sleep was the only way he could hasten its arrival.


	26. Chapter 26

**In from the cold? Never a more apt title, unless of course you are 'enjoying' a rather more tropical climate ... Anyway, onwards ...**

Millie woke shortly before seven and immediately plunged into guilt for having had a restful night. Of course, it wouldn't have been possible without that half pill but even so, it didn't seem right, not in the circumstances. Not when her mother, she stopped herself shortly. Wallowing in misery wasn't going to help anyone, least of all herself. Taking a deep breath, she pushed back the sheets and rolled out of bed to draw back the curtains to look out at the garden beyond, a work of art in late summer. The grass was looking rather parched in places, but the rest was a richly painted canvas of green trees and shrubs, mingling with a rainbow mixture of flowers. To the amateur eye, it might look randomly arranged but Millie knew her mother's talent for organisation better than to believe that. Each plant would have been painstakingly plotted to give it the best chance of flourishing and performing its task. It was the same with her diary, the backbone of her busy daily life. Sondra's appointments and errands always perfectly ordered to make maximum use of every hour of every day. When he wasn't feeling quite so antagonistic towards his eldest daughter's career of choice, Richard often joked it was this family trait for order and control which had driven Millie into the police service unlike his youngest child's more carefree attitude towards timekeeping. She furrowed her brow, thinking about the diary. There wasn't much else she could do, but she could do what her mother would expect of her.

Max had tossed and turned for hours, eventually falling into a fitful sleep some time after four. He couldn't be sure what woke him abruptly at about seven, must have been a noise from the road behind the flat. Groggily he forced his eyes to stay open and rolled over to pull the body he had been dreaming of into him. Full consciousness hit him when he remembered that she wasn't there. It wasn't the normal grouchy disappointment that she was absent because of their different shift patterns, rather the gut wrenching knowledge that she didn't want to be with him at a time when she should need him most. He flopped back down and rested his head onto his hands, it was still early, time enough to drive up to Epping and try to get through to her again.

Nearly an hour later as he drove along the lane towards the Brown family house and past the unmarked car containing a couple of plain clothed officers, two figures and a dog emerged from the woods opposite the gate leading into the driveway. One, dressed in nothing more than a singlet and short shorts, gave him a small wave as they opened the gate letting him drive in before they shut it behind his car. The other smiled sadly, her still dreadlocked hair messily tied up away from her face. She shared the same cheekbones as her sister and there was undoubtedly similarity round the mouth, but her eyes belonged to their father and he saw nothing there that moved him in the same way as Millie did.

By the time he got out of the car the couple were nearly upon him. Charlie had already made herself known and Max was fondly rubbing her ears, picking out the debris acquired from her walk in the woods.

"Hello, mate!" greeted Guy as Max drew himself up to standing, wincing as he got an eyeful of bulging yellow shorts into the bargain.

"Hi," he addressed them both quietly, taking note that up close Tara looked awful. Dark circles ringed her eyes, puffy no doubt from crying. "I'm sorry, but I'm not here with any news. I just thought I'd ..." he began quickly before trailing off at Tara's crestfallen expression. "Anyway, how are you all doing?"

Tara's bottom lip wobbled and she shrugged her shoulders, looking down at the ground. She turned in towards Guy who raised a protective arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head. Max had to look away, angry that not only was Guy welcome where he was not, but also that Tara readily took the affection offered to her by her lover, where Millie would not.

"Coffee? And breakfast? Eggs, bacon. I've got the lot ready to go."

"Guy's determined to make us eat," murmured Tara.

"Well, I don't want your Mum to be angry that I've let you lot waste away when she comes home," exclaimed Guy warmly. "Pity that I haven't been able to get Richard to eat though. He hasn't come out of his study since yesterday. Perhaps you ... I mean, I don't think he likes me all that much."

"Coffee, thanks," accepted Max, ignoring Guy's suggestion for now but noting how the Australian interloper didn't refer to Richard as Dick as he did at their first meeting, perhaps he wasn't really so coarse after all. "Is Millie ..."

"Inside I guess, she was in the kitchen when we went out," answered Guy. "Does she know you're-"

"No," interrupted Max curtly. "I thought she might be sleeping, so I didn't call," he added, avoiding having to acknowledge that Millie might not be entirely receptive to his visit.

"Oh, well then, you'd better come in," mumbled Guy into Tara's hair.

Max followed Guy and Tara in through the boot room to the kitchen, Charlie excitedly dodging in and out of his legs. He didn't know what to expect but the sight of Millie, her hair severely pulled back and without a scrap of makeup on her skin, with telephone in one hand pressed to her ear and pen in the other, head bent over what appeared to be a diary surprised him. Perhaps he thought she might be forlornly curled up on the sofa, morning tea in hand, waiting for him to arrive. But unlike her sister, there was no trace of puffiness around her eyes and lips which was always a sign of her crying. He was no stranger to the aftermath of her tears, he'd caused them often enough. Yet her skin was smooth, maybe paler than usual but otherwise untouched by the on-going trauma.

She must have known he was there, must have heard him talking outside the house, but she gave no indication that she was even aware of his existence in the room. "Millie?" he prompted, placing a hand tentatively on her shoulder as he came to stand beside her.

Millie held her breath at his touch. Wasn't this what she wanted, for him to come to her? She was just about to turn to him and crumple when a woman's voice spoke in her ear, making her sit up straighter and dislodge his fingers which slipped away regretfully. "Oh, hello. Is that Sue Amstell?" She tried to force some brightness into her tone but even to her ears it sounded unnaturally flat. "Um, yes I'm Sondra Brown's daughter. I'm just calling to let you know she won't be able to make it to her Pilates session this morning ... no, er, she ... she had to go away for a few days ... yes, it was unexpected ... um, no I won't make another appointment at the moment, she'll ... she'll call you ... yes, yes, thank you." Despite this having been the third telephone call she'd made, every word still felt like a torment.

"What are you doing?" he asked softly.

"What does it sound like?" she answered coolly. "I'm cancelling Mum's appointments. She wouldn't want anyone waiting for her or being let down because she didn't turn up."

"You don't have to do this?"

"Well nobody else is going to," she shot an irritated glance towards her sister moping over the Aga next to her boyfriend. The first shred of emotion she had allowed herself since coming downstairs.

"I didn't mean that. I mean you don't have to do this," he lifted a hand into the air aimlessly.

Millie stared up at him hotly, struggling to control her breathing, wishing he would leave and allow her to return to the empty place she had found within herself that made it possible to cope. He still had no idea how much he had hurt her, no idea how confused she felt. She wanted to scream but he would only dismiss her reaction as hysterical and in truth she knew he would be right and she refused to let him have that satisfaction. Thoughts of him secretly raking up the past and encouraging that Jessa woman to come on to him haunted her. Hadn't Grace said how much he seemed to enjoy it? Perhaps that was what he liked after all. Perhaps that wasn't an isolated incident. "I'm busy," she bit out, turning back to the diary and picking up the phone once again to dial the next number on her list.

"Millie, come on! Talk to me!" he ran a hand through his hair with frustration, aware of Guy watching them over his shoulder. "Millie, would you stop-" but he could see that she wasn't going to. She was determined to keep him at arm's length, out of his reach. In other circumstances, if they were alone, if her mother hadn't been kidnapped, he might have tried harder, might have begged even. But her resistance to even listen to him was so strong he wondered what he could possibly say to break down the barrier she had erected.

Millie hit the cancel button on the phone, although she didn't raise her eyes to him. "Have you found Austin yet?" she asked quietly.

"No. He hasn't called his mother yet, but Tommy expects he will before long. We'll pick him up when he does."

She started to dial again. "So there's no other progress?"

"No, not yet, I'll call as soon as I know anything," he replied, but she had already started talking into the handset by the time he finished speaking.

"Hello, this is a message on behalf of Sondra and Tara Brown, I'm sorry but they are unable to make their appointment today ..."

Max took a step back, he'd been dismissed. A cup of steaming coffee waited for him on the counter top, together with a bacon roll. "Sorry, Guy, but I think I should go."

"Aren't you going to talk to Richard?" asked Guy.

"I, er ... there's nothing much to say," he answered on a sigh. "I've never been all that good at tea and sympathy, no good at telling someone everything's going to be alright when-" he stopped, aware that Tara was on the verge of tears again. "Sorry. I'd better go. I want to be in Sun Hill for when we pick up Austin."

"You're sure about that? That you'll find him?" asked Tara hopefully.

Max nodded. "Yeah. About that, yes I am. But what he'll tell us," he shook his head, "that I don't know. I'm sorry."

Tara clutched Guy again and he gave her a squeeze in return before reaching out to the bacon roll and wrapping it in kitchen paper and holding it back out to Max. "For the journey." Max smiled his thanks. Maybe this interloper was more of an ally.

"Max," Tara peeled herself away from her lover to extend a hand to touch him. "Give her some time, she isn't coping well with this. It's easy for us all to think she is like Mum and can breeze through anything, just because they seem so alike. But without Mum, we're all kind of lost, Millie most of all, she just isn't showing it."

Frowning slightly at Tara's sudden intimacy, he nodded awkwardly, aware of his own part in Millie's stone-like demeanour, and turned back to where she was sitting, now caught up in another call. He walked round her towards the boot room, pausing as he reached her and thinking about placing a kiss on the top of her head. But he didn't, he couldn't risk her rejection and so he carried on, out into the boot room and to his car beyond.

-oo-

"Guv?"

"Yes, Tommy?"

"We've got him."

"I'm on my way."

-ooOoo-


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N This was intended to be the second half of the previous chapter, but, like Max's ego, it grew and** **grew ...**

**-ooOoo-**

"Where is he?" demanded Max, bursting in to the custody suite.

Jo blinked in surprise at the impatience in Max's voice before putting two and two together and realising who he was referring to. "I assume you mean David Austin?"

"Yes of course I mean David Austin!" he snapped back. "Where is he?"

"Cell three," answered Jo smoothly, returning to the half complete custody form. "But Guv, I suggest you don't go wading in," she called out dryly without looking up as Max took a step to march into the cells. He turned back to her with narrowed eyes. "Just saying, that's all. You wouldn't want to give him the defence of unreasonable pressure, would you?"

Max was set to fire back a retort along the lines of reminding her to whom she was talking when Neil and Grace came into sight through the double doors.

"Max! Good that you're here. Tommy said you'd been over to Epping. Do they know we've got Austin."

"Um, yeah," replied Max evasively, not wishing to reveal that he'd only managed to speak to Tara. Millie had refused to come to the phone. "Right, let's get on with this," he clapped his hands together. "Do you want to be in on the interview?"

"Actually, I wondered if Grace should lead?" suggested Neil blandly, causing Grace to straighten her stance defensively, ready for the inevitable onslaught.

"What?"

"Well, there's a good chance that Austin will be expecting a pretty heavy handed interview and be prepared for that. He might be more receptive to a more sympathetic approach and with respect Max, you have to agree that sympathy has never been one of your strengths."

Max inhaled deeply and fixed his hands on his hips, staring at Grace intently. "I'm not so sure," he didn't let her escape from his scrutiny. "We need to get him to talk. We've got nothing otherwise."

"If it makes you more comfortable, I'll sit in with Grace."

Grace shifted on her feet slightly, irritated at being talked about rather than to. "I can handle this, Guv," she interrupted the two men curtly to address Max directly. "I have done this before. I do understand the importance of the interview."

She'd had a pretty sleepless night, dwelling on the events of the previous day. Although Neil had attempted to assuage her worries that morning with coffee and a pecan Danish, she knew for the sake of her own sanity she had to front up to Max, to clear the air, no matter what he might throw at her. She was finished with being his favourite victim.

"Right," said Max at last, "well it seems the decision has been made. I'll be watching next door though and if I don't think it's going well, I'm going to come in on it," he warned.

Neil shrugged. "Fair enough. Give me five minutes Grace. Just need to make a call."

Max and Grace watched Neil walk back through the double doors, his phone held tightly to his ear to block out the sudden flurry of activity around him.

"Guv," in the midst of several officers all talking at once to Jo, Grace turned to Max. "Look, I think Millie may have overheard something I said to Jo yesterday. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said what I did." The heavy weight lifted from her shoulders, it felt good! No matter how he might snarl back, whatever derogatory remarks he might toss out her way, he couldn't undermine the freedom she had gained in taking back some measure of control by not submissively waiting for his attack.

Max eyed her coldly but instead of backing down she stood firm. He made her wait for several seconds, an eternity in the immediate stillness that surrounded them within the now hectic scrum of the custody suite. She watched him gear up to mount his attack but instead, and to her astonishment, he appeared to deflate. "It doesn't matter, Grace, it doesn't matter. But, if I ever hear that you've been maliciously discussing my relationship with my fi ... er ... partner ever again, I won't be so easy-going. Do you understand?"

Grace nodded, a flicker of elation at her triumph streaked through her but she was careful not to let it show, better that he thought her cowed by his threat. "I'd er, better get everything together for the interview."

"Er, yeah. Just out of interest, exactly what did you say about Jessa Bennett?"

Grace flushed. "Um, just that you seemed to be enjoying her attention at the salon."

"Really. That explains a lot." He rubbed at his forehead with one hand and let out a loud sigh. "You've caused more trouble than you know, Grace," he sighed. He closed his eyes for a moment before taking a step past her. "Don't let us down," he added quietly.

Max's resignation struck at Grace more keenly than his sarcasm ever could. Her head told her not to care that her imprudent outburst with Jo had had greater consequences that she could have imagined. Her words had only been meant to allow her to let off steam with a trusted friend. She might not like Max, she loathed him in fact, and she might not care all that much about Millie, but in her heart she couldn't help feeling a degree of shame in letting her emotions run away with her and result in unnecessary pain to others. Neil was right, she wasn't that petty, or vindictive. Max might not share her moral scruples, but that didn't mean that she had to descend to his level. Allowing him to pass without further comment, Grace came to a decision. Having already found the courage to confront him with her apology, she'd also find the courage to be herself again.

-oo-

"David, we know this is you," Grace pushed forward the photograph of him dismantling the security camera at the salon. "We know from your mother that she hasn't seen you since the time that Carly Fleischmann disappeared, and that your phone has been switched off so that she hasn't been able to call you." Austin sat silently, barely acknowledging Grace in any way. She frowned and shot a sideways glance at Neil. "David, we also know that you have been with Carly since she disappeared," she continued softly, hoping to creep in the chinks in his armour. It worked, he looked at her nervously. Grace took the opportunity to continue, pushing the photograph of Carly's severed fingers towards him. "David, what happened? Talk to me."

Max watched from behind the screen. They made a good team, Grace and Neil. But then, they always had done. Neil had made the right call in not piling the pressure on to Austin, who appeared traumatised. He wasn't saying much, too scared, thought Max, but Grace was getting there. Austin had started off cockily enough, but despite his age, he was little more than a boy playing at being a man. He had mentioned his relationship with Barsukov, clear that he idolised the man who gave him a status that no one else had ever done. For the first time he was somebody.

Not to Carly though, Neil had reminded him. She still regarded him as a 'nobody' and so he had jumped at the chance to humiliate her, to show her that he was important, to demand her respect.

Austin had begun to deny anything to do with her disappearance but then Grace produced the photographic evidence of Carly's severed fingers. "Your DNA, David, we found your DNA under her fingernails. She was with you before her fingers were severed."

"We, er, met up a couple of days ago", he started awkwardly, his eyes flitting between Grace and Neil, looking for any sign that they believed his story.

"No, David," said Grace patiently, "you didn't. Carly's nails are acrylic and were freshly applied only an hour or so before she was last seen. There's no way your DNA could be under them if you hadn't been with her after she was abducted."

Panic began to set in. Max watched keenly as Austin's left hand shook, a nervous reaction he thought. They were close.

"Who told you to do this?" she asked.

"I don't know. I, er, got a phone call with instructions."

"From Kiril Barsukov?" Grace suggested.

"No!"

"Who then?" persisted Neil.

"I don't know."

"Come on David, you get a random call from someone asking you to abduct your ex-boss' daughter and you just do it? You expect us to believe that?" scoffed Neil derisively.

Max raised a fist to hit out at the wall in frustration but stopped himself, instead holding it to his head. The urge to go in there and shake the truth out of the bastard was overwhelming.

Austin pressed his hands to his head, his face contorting angrily.

"Why did you do it? Money?" Grace changed tactic.

Austin frowned and nodded silently.

"How much?"

Austin shrugged.

"You don't know?"

"Two grand," he answered shortly, avoiding her eyes. Ashamed, she thought.

"Two thousand pounds? Not much for this," Grace pushed the photograph of the fingertips back towards him.

He shrank away at the macabre evidence, shaking his head. "Not that," he mumbled barely coherent. "I didn't know about that." Max watched from the other side of the glass as the object of his hate finally met Grace's eyes, pleading with her to believe him. "I didn't know they were going to do that. I thought we were just going to scare her."

"Start from the beginning," she coaxed him quietly.

Hesitantly, Austin began to mutter in to the middle distance. "I had her in that room. I could have done anything to her and she knew it. But she was mouthy, going on about how important she was, saying that her Dad would get me. I had to shut her up. I wasn't going to cut it all off, just enough to send to him but she wouldn't shut up. So I made her shut up. She was scared, really scared. I told her to pick it all up. It gave me a real buzz, made me feel really good. Her, on the floor like that, like she was nothing. All ugly and disgusting on the floor. Made her stuff her hair in an envelope and write his address on it." But then he stopped, as if remembering the horror that had unfolded afterwards.

"What happened next?" prompted Grace but Austin shook his head.

"David?"

"No comment," he murmured finally.

"David? David, where are they now?" asked Grace, this time with an edge of panic in her voice as she realised that she was losing him.

"No comment." His eyes were now firmly fixed on the table between them.

"David, the lives of two women are at stake here. This," she stabbed at the photograph again to try to get his attention, "has already happened to one. Who knows what else is going to happen?"

"No comment."

"You realise that as things stand, you are the only one in the frame for all of this?" interjected Neil. "You will go down for it all. Come on, David, is that what you want?"

"No comment."

This time Max didn't even try to hold in his frustration as he punched the wall, to the surprise of Tommy as he entered.

"Not going well?" he asked.

"He's fucking clammed up."

"So Grace's approach didn't work?"

Max shook his head. It was tempting to blame Grace but it was pretty obvious that Austin had indeed been unwittingly dragged into something much bigger than him and was either traumatised or very, very scared. "No, no it's not her fault."

Tommy handed over a steaming cup. "What about if I have a go? I've got to know his mother a bit, perhaps I can use that."

"Maybe," he turned back to the window to hear Austin's solicitor request a break and Neil and Grace subsequently rise in acquiescence. It was obvious they weren't going to get anything more out of him for now.

-oo0oo-

The quiet of the room was broken by the sound of the door of their prison as it flew open and a large muscular figure strode through. Without breaking rhythm he grabbed hold of Sondra and wrenched her from the bed with only one hand as if she was no more than a rag doll to him. He flung her to the floor and out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of another man, less well built but no less menacing despite being obscured by the darkening shadow of the first man as he leant down to pull her up by her hair. She noticed something glint across his knuckles. Sondra made to scream, except it wasn't her voice. It was less of a scream and more of a visceral cry coming from deep within, an almost inhuman sound. Confusion scrambled her thoughts, unable to comprehend the noise in her ears, the sudden movements in front of her and the sharp pain in her scalp followed by the dull thud as she was shoved back down to the ground, her head hitting the wall hard. The main swirled away almost balletically from her, his arm raised, his hand glinting again as he lowered it in slow motion. Another thud and then nothing. In the stillness, Sondra looked beyond his legs in front of her. Carly lay at his feet, motionless, soundless. This time Sondra did scream.


	28. Chapter 28

**For Feebee - your wish is my command ...**

Two heads bowed together outside the interview room. One hand on the arm of another. "We did the best we could, Grace. You know that."

"Hmm. I doubt Max will agree."

"Well, he hasn't a leg to stand on if he doesn't. I'll back you up."

Neil's words were kind, but it didn't make Grace feel any better. She'd been determined to drag the truth out of David Austin but hadn't delivered. She wanted to kick something, or someone, but that would be too far out of character, even in her current state of mind. Yet her irritation at failing in the interview room was tempered by the bond that seemed to be developing with Neil. She wondered if she was imagining it, but his attention was invariably fixed on her when they were in the same room, and she was sure that Suzie had noticed as well from her sour expression at no longer being his sole source of confidence.

Emboldened, she smiled wryly and leant in a fraction closer. "Are you promising to be my knight in shining-" but was interrupted by the sullen expression of her immediate superior bearing down on them.

-oo-

Max looked around the briefing room. Expectant faces, and worried faces, stared back at him. He sighed. It had been a long day during which he had run the gamut of euphoria at David Austin's arrest to the despair of not being any closer to finding the two missing women. Neil and Grace had done their best just as had Tommy and Suzie, piling on layer after layer of emotional blackmail, threatening worst case scenarios, to get him to talk. Yet, no matter how much pressure was applied, or how it was applied, had made any difference. Austin had given up all he was prepared to and that left the investigating team facing a very solid brick wall. The temptation to go in and smash Austin's head into that brick wall was immense, but as both Jo and Neil had pointed out, his gut reaction was unlikely to be any more fruitful than standard police practice.

"Public appeal? Get the press involved?"

Max appeared to mull over Mickey's suggestion but really he had no intention of allowing Barsukov the pleasure of thinking they were on the rails and having to resort to such desperate measures. Better to let him wonder what Austin might be saying while in custody. And Max had no doubt that Barsukov would know by now that his foot soldier was in custody.

"Maybe, but not yet," replied Max, outwardly non-committal. "Austin is still the key to this. The CPS has agreed to charge him with the abduction of Carly Fleischmann and GBH on the strength of the forensic and CCTV evidence."

"So, we charge him and let him sweat it out in the cells for a bit longer before he goes to court in the morning?"

"Yeah. And hope that Barsukov panics and makes a mistake."

"Bit of a long shot, isn't it?" asked Neil, deliberately provoking..

"What else do we have?" Max snapped back, losing his cool for a moment and letting his true concern show through. He felt the eyes of the room on him, all feasting on his involuntary loss of control, proving he was human after all. He rubbed at his forehead, gathering himself together. "We still can't pull in Barsukov, but we do know that he must be using someone else in addition to Austin to hold Carly and Sondra. Mickey, talk to Lesley again. Find out who has been coming and going at the club, who she hasn't seen for a while. Anything that is out of the usual."

"Sure," agreed Mickey.

"Suzie, I want you to track down every known associate of Barsukov and any deals involving Drobyshev Holdings. Any link that may give us some new addresses."

Suzie nodded her compliance, resigning herself to another evening at home, at work, with the cat for company. Where was this fun she was supposed to be having? A sharp dig in the ribs from her right reminded her. "I'll give you a hand with that if you like," whispered in her ear making her cheeks burn.

"As for the rest of you," Max's gaze swung around the room, "there's more CCTV footage to go through. I want the route of that van found. Use the ANPR and widen the area of search." He felt the room groan quietly at the tedium of such work. Watching endless hours of nothing in search of something was mind-numbing, panning for gold for hours after hour, but it was often where that golden nugget was found to bring new light to a case. Ignoring the muffled reaction, he checked his watch. "Right, we've got a couple more hours left today. I'll sign off overtime for anyone who wants it."

Neil raised his eyebrows in surprise at Max's easy attitude towards overtime. He had always had to fight Meadows for extra resource. Max evidently had a rather more different relationship with his superior. His surprise turned to an inward smile at the spark of his own juvenile jealously. After all, this wasn't a playground, even if it felt like it sometimes.

-oo-

"Oh! Hi, Tara. It's Max."

"Is there any news? Has that man told you where Mum is?" The desperate hope in her voice stabbed at him. Even more so because he had called Millie's mobile to talk to her directly. It couldn't have been clearer that she was deliberately avoiding him.

"I'm sorry. No. He's scared and is refusing to tell us anything. He will be charged with Carly's abduction, we have enough evidence for that but our enquiries are still on-going. We are following up every possible lead." He paused. "We won't give up until we've found Sondra and Carly, Tara."

"I don't care about Carly!" snapped Tara, unusually vehement. "She's never been anything but a spoilt little bitch and it's her fucking father that-" the diatribe faded as Max heard a mild scuffle taking place on the other end of the line. He hoped it was Millie taking over.

"Hey, Max, it's Guy. Tara's a bit upset right now, I know you'll understand. "

Max's heart plummeted at the male Australian twang. Idiot, he told himself. "Yeah," was all he could manage to mumble into the handset.

"Look, I'd pass you over to Millie but er, I'm not er sure where she is right now. I'll ask her to call you, okay?"

Max sensed Guy's awkwardness. He guessed that Millie was standing right next to Guy, probably chewing her lip, anxiously watching her sister's boyfriend. He could picture it so vividly that he was almost there with them. Probably in the kitchen, gathered by the granite topped central island with its elegant flower arrangements and bowl of fruit. "Yeah, okay," he hesitated for a moment, "er, Guy?"

"Yes, mate?"

_Tell her I love her_, he wanted to say. "Tell her that I'll be here at the station until quite late tonight," was what he actually said.

"Sure," replied Guy, somehow conveying in just that one word Max's real message to his fiancée.

-ooOoo-

The flat was in near darkness when he walked in, the sun having set behind the apartment building. He double locked the door behind him with a tired sigh. There was no point in leaving it unlocked for Millie. She wouldn't be coming. Dropping his keys into the small painted china bowl on the counter top, he headed straight for the fridge, opening the door and letting the interior light spill out into the empty room. Another evening, another beer. Something made him turn round though. A sniff, perhaps a sob. Impossible to tell, but he suddenly realised that he wasn't alone.

She was sitting in the leather armchair, bolt upright, staring at the wall. Surprised attacked him and the bottle very nearly slipped from his grasp. He placed the beer on the counter, just in case he wasn't so lucky a second time.

"Millie?" She didn't answer, but her head jerked ever so slightly towards him. He took it to be an encouraging sign. "Millie, what are you doing here?"

"Couldn't stay there anymore," she answered mechanically.

"But how did you get back here? We left your car here yesterday."

"I took Tara's."

Max spun back round to the window and glance quickly out at the car park, as if he didn't believe her. Sure enough, Tara's tiny Smart car was parked to the side in a visitor space. "You drove here? Alone?"

"Yes."

"But ... are you mad? What the hell did you think you were doing? There is someone out there who has abducted your Mother and Carly! Hasn't it occurred to you that that someone might try to take you as well?" Millie eyed him coldly only infuriating him the more. "I put two officers outside the house, why the hell didn't they tell me you'd left?" His voice rose angrily with every word.

"I told them that I'd already spoken to you," she answered, smugly pleased with herself for having out manoeuvred him, at least on this occasion.

"So if something had happened, it might have been hours before anyone knew!" he shook his head in disbelief. "You should know better than to make yourself an easy target."

"Should I? And just when did you begin credit me with that level of common sense?" she spat back sarcastically.

"Don't be so ridiculous," he blustered.

"Nothing between the ears-"

"Oh for God's sake, when are you going to stop using that against me?" He turned back to his beer and yanked open a drawer to reach in for a bottle opener, then forcing off the top with barely contained aggression.

Millie rose from the sofa. This wasn't going as she had anticipated, not that she really had formulated a plan. It had become unbearable at her family home during the course of the day. Her father couldn't look at her, her sister had her boyfriend for comfort and although they were both kind, she felt so alone. Despite his actions and his attitude, she only wanted to be with Max, to find a way though what was going on and face it together. Not that she understood why. Especially now with him being like this. Right now all she wanted to do now was forget. She'd thought about sinking herself into a bottle of wine, maybe even with the other half of last night's little pill for good measure. She stared at his back, willing him to turn round and take back his anger. But he didn't and there was nothing else she wanted to say. Silently she turned and with bare feet on the cool wood floor, padded into their bedroom.

The tears were threatening again. She'd fought them off for over twenty-four hours but if she wasn't careful, if she didn't find some distraction, they would break through. An idea began to take hold. She wanted to forget, she wanted to make him make her forget. It was the very least he could do. Slowly, Millie slid aside the wardrobe door and reached into the very back of one of the bottom drawers, rummaging around for what she wanted. Finding it beneath a range of unfavoured and ill-fitting underwear that she really ought to throw away but never did, her fingers slid across the tissue-wrapped package and drew out the object of her search. She had never had the courage to wear it before, Max had always been disparaging of women who tried too hard with their fake tans and inflated hair and breasts, but from what Grace said yesterday it seemed that perhaps he was only hiding a secret liking for the sluttish look. Maybe what he really wanted was a Jessa Bennett. After all, there was something about the woman that horribly reminded Millie of Katya, his first love, obsession, whatever she was.

Before she could change her mind Millie shed every item of clothing. The plain white shirt and jeans, together with the functional pale bra and knickers hit the floor and instead she poured the sheer black silk slip dress over her head and down her naked body, her hands smoothing the delicate fabric over the contours of her breasts and hips. Turning back to the mirror, her reflection was astonishing. Never before had she worn anything like it and had only bought the barely there outfit during an alcohol-fuelled party organised by her best friend Becksy in a rather exclusive sex shop near Covent Garden. At the time, and while it had been displayed on a model, it had seemed the least outrageous option in the boudoir-esque shop, but now in the wholesome safety of their bedroom it felt incendiary. She adjusted the straps, lowering the neckline slightly to reveal a little more cleavage and straightened the provocatively high hem line on her thighs. She pondered on whether to add the accompanying thong, but dismissed the thought. Why bother with it? Yet there was something lacking in the image staring back at her. While the body was all it should be, the face was drawn and pale. Quickly she set to work creating a different Millie with the various tools given to her with instructions over the years by Becksy. Dark eyeliner and smoky coloured powder, foundation to give warmth to her skin and from the depths of her make-up bag a lipstick in the richest of plum shades. Finally, a different woman looked back at her in the mirror. She blotted her lips and leant into reapply a second coat, for luck.

He must have stared out of the kitchen window for a minute, maybe two before deciding that they couldn't go on like this for much longer. It was beginning to enter his mind that perhaps she had a point and even if she didn't, then he could at least pretend that she did for the sake of making up. Perhaps this was a lesson in relationships. But it wasn't a lesson he could learn on an empty stomach and half a bottle of lager. The fridge offered him little in the way of instant food save a bowl of microwave rice, not a favourite but it would do in the circumstances. Having slammed it into the microwave and needing something to fill his head other than the thought of impending grovelling, he leant across to the iPod, still in its docking station from a couple of days earlier. Paul Weller was only halfway through a selection of his greatest hits and, accompanied by the whirring moan of the microwave, complaining desperately of missing the object of his desire. And Max missed Millie. Really missed her. She had withdrawn her affection for little more than a day but it was long enough for a sort of cold desolation to set in. As the microwave pinged its completion, he leant in towards the counter, arms braced, hands gripping the cold granite. With a frustrated growl he pushed back and ran a hand through his hair. Food would have to wait after all.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N I thought (quite) long and hard about upping the rating for this chapter. But, on balance, have decided against on the grounds that it is no racier than your average Jilly Cooper or Jackie Collins. Both of which were teenage reading for me! I also like to think that you lovely readers are neither prudish nor naive enough not to know what to expect in my stories ... so, read on if you dare, and take this as your only warning ...**

-ooOoo-

The closed bedroom door threatened to stall Max's momentum. He understood that she was still shutting him out but if Millie thought a shut door was much of a deterrent, then she was woefully mistaken. She must have come home for a reason and that could only be because no matter how stormy their relationship had become over the last couple of days, they needed to be together. Grasping the handle he took a deep breath and surged forward into the room. His jaw nearly dropped to the floor as he watched her leaning over the chest of drawers in towards the mirror. From the floor, her bare legs rose in delicious curves, eventually reaching the hemline of something he'd never seen before and wasn't sure how to describe. He stood staring for a second or two before his wits returned with a vengeance as in the mirror her eyes met his.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded. Millie spun round, leaning back into the furniture, her breasts thrust forward stretching the sheer fabric to its limit. She stared back at him with mutinous eyes, her dark glossy lips parted. It took every ounce of his self-control not to pounce on her and hating himself for wanting to. "Well?"

"What? You don't like?" Her tone mocked him. "I thought this was just your thing." She ran her fingers down one delicate shoulder strap, intentionally provocative.

He watched every movement her body made. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, causing her curves to flex and lengthen, her fingers caressing her own skin, her eyes taunting him. "What are you doing?" he repeated in a low slow voice. "Your mother-"

Suddenly the assured facade snapped and Millie's face contorted angrily. "I know!" she hissed. "I know Mum is missing. I know there is nothing I can do about it and I know that you," she stabbed a pointed finger at him, "are using it for the benefit of your own career!"

"Now that ... that is bollocks! Absolute crap!"

"And that's not to mention the cheap thrill you're getting from that woman."

"Oh not back to this again. When will you get it into your head that there is nothing going on between me and Jessa."

"Jessa? Very familiar, aren't we?"

"Oh forget it!"

"That's just the point! Make me, Max. Come on, make me forget it. I don't want to think about anything anymore," she wailed. "And isn't that what you are so good at? Using sex to avoid answering awkward questions? Come on, now's your chance. Look at me, I'm offering you-"

"That's enough!" he took two steps towards her but stopped short, not sure that he would be able to contain himself if she was within his reach.

"Look at me, I'm even playing the part, just for you. Just like them."

"Them? What the hell are you talking about now?"

"Katya," the name tasted as sour on her tongue but his dismissive reaction spurred her on. "And Irina." She was determined to push every button in her arsenal.

"Shut. Up."

"Make. Me. This is what you want, isn't it. A whore in the bedroom, well, here I am. Come on, do it! Fuck me like you fucked them. I don't mean any more to you than they did! Do it!" she finished on a scream.

Mentioning Katya was bad enough, but bringing back those hideous memories of his time with Irina was a low blow. It was enough to tip him over the edge and the last vestige of his fragile self-control vanished. With a growl he was on her in a moment, pulling her over to the wall and slamming his body into hers. She might just have well been naked for all the protection her dress provided and she felt every angle of his body and clothing press into her. His mouth hotly crushed hers, immediately silencing her vindictive taunting. "Want to play the whore do you? Is this really what you want?" he breathed into her neck, but before she could answer he conquered her mouth once again. Roughly he pulled down the shoulder straps, his mouth following in hard open mouthed kisses, his teeth scraping against her skin. Millie gasped and gulped as she felt the fabric rip from her body but the sensation jolted her back to the pursuit of her goal and with frantic hands she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, she managed two before he grabbed her wrists and manoeuvred her towards the bed, throwing her down and hastily tearing away his clothes. Millie looked up at him, her eyes still defiant, still provoking. The dress clung to her body but it hung raggedly, exposing even more of the valley between her breasts and ruched up high over her thighs. He couldn't bear to look into her accusing eyes any longer, instead ferociously focussing on the rest of her body. Except for her hair falling back onto the white sheets of the bed, she didn't look like his Millie anymore, if anything she had achieved her mission of some sort of hybrid of Katya and Irina. Between them, two women he had never made love to and one to whom he had only ever made love. And now she wanted to be fucked liked he had fucked them? He didn't understand it, didn't understand the urge he had to do it either. Propped up on her elbows she lay motionless, except for the exaggerated rise and fall of her chest matching his own laboured breathing. Suddenly, almost fearfully as if she had second thoughts about her plan, she made to scoot away but he was on her in a flash, pushing her down and pinning her with his body, she resisted for a second before launching her own assault in response to his hands, his mouth, pulling his head closer and scoring his back with her nails. He gasped into her mouth at the sharpness of the pain and slammed the offending hand back down above her head, clamping her wrist firmly into the bed and holding it there. A squeak of surprise stuck in her throat but swiftly became a low moan as his other hand slid down her body and thrust between her thighs, pushing them apart. She arched beneath him involuntarily, anticipating what was to come. Her moan intensified as his hand stilled. She couldn't see his eyes, but his lips were curled cruelly. That expression she knew he used only in his most contemptuously arrogant frame of mind. This was no game to prolong the pleasure, it was about denying her pleasure, pronouncing his power, his control. Her hips bucked and she threw a leg over his thigh to force him down closer. The strength of his erection pressed into her and this time he was the one to groan while she ground upwards against him. If he wouldn't give, then she would take. The punishing dance continued until her dress was little more than a cobweb of threads. Max tore its remains away leaving her as naked as he. "Still want this?" he muttered, but she said nothing comprehensible, the writhing response of her body enough to answer his question. Millie nearly cried out as she felt a finger trace lightly between her legs, and then hover above the most sensitive nub. She bucked again, making delicious contact but he didn't react. Again she lifted her hips to him and almost instantly a rhythm developed. Spellbound, he watched on as she drove the pace against his still hand, her eyes closed, utterly absorbed in the sensation she was generating. Yet somewhere in the back of her mind she knew there was something wrong in this. He was making her work for it, her body at his mercy, he could pull away at any moment and leave her an unsated mess. A sob escaped from her throat at her self-imposed predicament but her hips increased the momentum regardless. She fisted her free hand into the pillow beneath her head and turned her face into it, silencing any further sound and avoiding the sight of him above her. Onwards she raced, towards the meltdown that she had so craved from him, the only thing he could do for her. And then it came, breathing rendered irrelevant as her body went rigid except for the very hottest part of her which convulsed chaotically and then with a strangely insufficient fulfilment as she felt his fingers enter and claim his place within her.

Max squeezed his eyes shut as her body greedily gripped and grasped at his fingers, hot, wet and soft, so soft. It might have all been beautiful if only she had looked up at him with eyes that told how she loved him. Instead she hid herself away, buried into the pillow for protection. As her contractions subsided he wrenched his hand away to hook one leg over his arm, stretching her open to drive hard into her, relishing the lingering ripples massaging his cock. He no longer held her arm above her head but still she didn't move, didn't look up, didn't make a sound. It was as if he wasn't there at all but by now he didn't care, she had what she wanted and now it was his turn. Without her caresses and emotional encouragement there was no point in prolonging his journey and within a few seconds he thrust deeply for the final time before collapsing on top of her, his head buried into the side of her exposed neck. Breathing deeply as his own orgasm faded away, the scent of her skin filled him but only accentuated the emptiness of what had just taken place.

Millie lay beneath him, two bodies breathing deeply, sticky, exhausted and more like strangers than they had ever been. At this point there should have been affectionate giggles or perhaps an unwillingness to let go, small kisses, stroking soft sensitive skin, whispered words of love. But now there was only stillness and silence between them. Gradually Max realised that he was probably crushing her and rolled away to lie on his back at her side, one arm flung over his eyes to hide from the building shame at having capitulated so readily, returning to what he used to be so easily. Under his blindfold he prayed that she would turn to him, touch him or just say something that would take them back to who they were. He waited, his sweat drying on his skin, disappointment filling him as she moved to lie on her side, away from him, turning her back in rejection.

She stared with unseeing eyes at the lowered window blind, determined not to fall into darkness. That would only bring forth thoughts of despair. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't blame Max for this. He'd only done as she had demanded but while for a few minutes she had forgotten everything except for the wild sensations shaking her body and dislodging trauma from her mind, it was now horribly clear that it had only been a temporary reprieve, leaving her even more desolate. Interrupting her thoughts however, a cold familiar trickle ran down the back of her lower thigh and onto the sheet beneath her. She clamped her legs together tightly to stem the viscous rivulet but that too could only be temporary respite from the inevitable trip to the loo. Silently, and as gracefully as she could manage, she rose from the bed and hobbled into the bathroom. Using tissues, she cleaned herself up as best she could, concentrating completely on her task, grateful for the albeit unpleasant distraction. With the sticky dampness taken care of, it occurred to Millie that she probably looked a complete sight. Not that it really mattered, but it gave her something to do, she grabbed a handful of cleansing wipes and rubbed at the make-up smeared across her face, looking up into the mirror to begin work. She watched as her eyes widened at the horror looking back at her. The dark lipstick was smudged around her lips, down to her chin, the black eyeliner and smoky powder smeared around her eyes. A strange sound escaped from her mouth and she raised both hands to immediately force it back down into her throat, holding them tightly against the cry that so desperately wanted to escape. Guilt, shame, inadequacy all poured into her soul with a gush she had no hope of defending against. Her mother was gone, taken by some Russian madman who it seemed thought nothing of mutilation as a form of communication and she sought to forget all that by having soulless sex. No matter how she tried to force back the sobs, her hands were simply not strong enough to hold bag the grief and she staggered back against the tiled wall, sliding down to the floor.

Max lay in the semi-lit bedroom with his arm still flung over his eyes, thinking hard about how to put this right. Unfortunately, he wasn't coming up with a plan which sounded convincing even to him. She held all the cards and didn't seem to have any intention of playing them. He sighed. Perhaps there was nothing he could do. Maybe he would have to ride this one out and hope for the best. As he came to this unsatisfactory conclusion he became aware of the noise reaching him from the bathroom. She'd been in there a long time, spending longer than usual on the post-coital clean up. Not the most romantic part of the sexual ritual, but a price to pay for having given up condoms in favour of the contraceptive methods of a more committed, stable relationship. At least, it _had_ been stable, he wasn't so sure right now. On hearing the noise again, a strange sort of sob, more of a low moan really, he sat up as if that would improve his hearing and was rewarded by the sound of her crying, now in huge wracking sobs from behind the bathroom door. He leapt from the bed and raced to the door, flinging it open without warning to find her slumped in the corner by the bath, her legs bent awkwardly and her hair seeking to modestly cover her body.

After a moment where he stood in stunned silence, staring at the wretched form of his lover, her arms wrapped tightly round her waist, shaking with her cries, he covered the distance between them in an instant and dropped to his knees in front of her. He hesitated, unsure how to reach out and knowing only that he wanted to hold her, then tentatively held a hand to her head, threading his fingers into her hair and tucking a few strands behind her ear.

"Millie?" he whispered. "Oh God, Millie." He tried to lift her chin, to unfurl her hunched position but she resisted, tensing her limbs defensively, her body cold and stiff. She wouldn't accept his warmth from him and so he pulled down a fluffy towel from the rail above, wrapping it around her back and gently using it to draw her closer. His persistence paid off and gradually, with tiny uncertain jerky movements she relented and allowed him to take her into his arms. Her tears fell wetly against his skin, blotted by the dusting of hair on his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything, Millie. I shouldn't ..." he trailed off. Where to start? He was sorry for everything that had started with an overheard private conversation four days ago and ended a just few minutes earlier in their bedroom. Instead of talking himself further into the mire, he dropped a kiss to her shoulder where the towel had slipped, taking heart that her sobs seemed to be easing, at the very least they weren't quite so wrenching. "I never wanted to hurt you. Got that wrong, didn't I?" he added bitterly. "There's nothing more important to me than you, nothing." Millie pulled away to look up at him, testing him with puffy, reddened eyes ringed with smudged black kohl. He waited anxiously for her verdict, holding his breath for her reproach, but she appeared to be satisfied with what she saw and returned silently to the haven of his chest and arms. "I'll transfer, or resign. We can get away from here, go somewhere quieter. If that's what you want. When we get your Mum home, we'll talk about it. Decide together." He felt her shrink at the mention of her mother.

"I just want her back," Millie moaned into his body.

"I know. So do I. So do I," he pressed his lips to her hair, rhythmically stroking and smoothing the long strands. "And we will. Get her back." He spoke so confidently that Millie found it easy to somehow believe him, despite knowing in her head that he had no right to give her such assurances. Neither wanted to move, having so unexpectedly found their truce, but they both knew that they couldn't stay on the bathroom floor all night. At the sound of Millie's watery sniffing, Max leant away, grabbing a tissue from a nearby box and handing to her. The cleansing wipes which had fallen from her hand to the floor lay just behind him. He picked them up and after a moment of wondering quite what do to with them pulled out a handful. "Here," he began, "let's get rid of this stuff." Gently, so exquisitely tenderly, he swiped the cloths over her skin. She submitted with quiet grace to his ministrations. With each pass revealing the Millie he knew beneath the mask-like make-up that had temporarily stained her. Gradually she became the natural, whole woman that he adored to within an inch of, and quite possibly beyond, his life. He had to admit that he didn't do a very good job with the eye make-up, unsure of how much pressure to apply, but eventually felt satisfied with his efforts and left the cloths in a small pile. Without words, he shifted round to her side, slid an arm under her knees and behind her back and with care to disguise the grimace that came from the creaking in his back, lifted her from the floor to carry her back to their bed.


	30. Chapter 30

**With thanks to Feebee, Firebird & Kit for such incredibly motivating reviews. Especially to Feebee for her assurances on the last chapter (which I totally forgot to mention, begging forgiveness) and to Firebird for her expertise in the area of violent death (from a medical point of view, of course).**

**Kit – I promise a healthy dose of Tommy & Suzie in the next!**

**-ooOoo-**

The hot water soothed his aching head, helping to release some of the tension. He had left her still asleep in bed having held onto her for most of the night as he lay awake, her body nestled into his. Unwilling to let go and risk that she wouldn't let him touch her again. It was only when he woke, sleep finally having captured him as well in the early hours, that he realised they had parted. Gently, he had resumed his position, enveloping her while he considered what to do next. That was why his head ached. They were going to have to talk about what had happened last night, he didn't want to of course, but his offer to resign or transfer made it an inevitable outcome that he may as well face. The suggestion had come out of nowhere. He'd never lived anywhere other than London and the thought of leaving scared him witless. He hoped she would refuse, but somehow he didn't think she would. Then there was the inevitable awkwardness of the morning after the night before, almost as if they were strangers in the aftermath of their fury. He didn't feel angry anymore, he felt ashamed, wondering if the image of her slumped in the corner of the bathroom would ever leave him. Drying off quickly and then wrapping the same towel that he had drawn around Millie a few hours earlier around his hips, Max took a sideways glance in the steamed up mirror, thankful for the obscurity, and walked back into the bedroom.

Millie watched him return from beneath her brows, her knees defensively drawn to her chin under the sheet. He looked so nervous, fearful of her reaction. For a moment she struggled to reconcile the man standing beyond the foot of their bed with the man who had last night met her aggression with his own with such explosive results. And if only they had left it there she might still be able to find some hate in her. But afterwards, when he had ministered to her so tenderly, wiping away her make-up and tears, whispering his regrets and entreaties for forgiveness the thaw had set in. She wondered if she was being too gullible for her own good, but the fact remained that she wanted to believe him. Such a proud man, so determined and convinced of his own opinion but humbled, brought to his knees in front of her, because of her, for her. And now, in the clear light of the morning, her conviction strengthened. She let her knees drop a little, lowering the barrier between them but still holding the sheet protectively to her chest.

His heart lifted at the gesture, noticing that with it her features appeared to soften. Her eyes had lost the brittleness, replaced instead with sorrow. "Morning," he spoke softly from just inside the doorway. The corners of her mouth widened slightly to form a small smile in awkward acknowledgement of his greeting. "Look, Millie, I ... I 'm ... last night ... I shouldn't ..." he trailed off.

Millie's heart leapt out to him in the throes of his awkwardness and her lower lip began to tremble. She blinked frantically, trying to push back yet more tears. "No," she swallowed, "no, I shouldn't have done it, I don't know what I was thinking, what I was saying ... the things I said ..." she shut her eyes tightly and held the back of her hand to her mouth. The bed suddenly dipped next to her and she opened her eyes as his arms drew her to his chest, holding her securely. "I'm sorry," she whispered into his shoulder.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he retorted, shifting uncomfortably at the memory of how she had provoked him and the eagerness of his own reaction. "I should have told you what was going on from the beginning with Fleischmann, told myself that I had your best interests at heart but I was only taking the easy route. I should have been straight with you and last night ... well ... you were right to be angry and I shouldn't have taken advantage of you."

A wry laugh rumbled against him. "That's not quite how I remember it." But then she turned serious again. "It felt so wrong ... like we lost each other." The sobs threatened to resurface. "I wanted to hate you, wanted to make you feel something of what I was feeling. I thought it would help me forget ... but it doesn't make any sense now ... and Mum ... oh God, how could I-"

"Shush, shush." He stroked her naked back, breathing in the scent of her skin and allowing himself to submerge in the sensation of being close once more, vowing never to make such a stupid mistake and risk all this again. Minutes ticked by unnoticed by either of them, both absorbed in their reconnection until an alarm from outside the room broke into the silence.

"What's that?" she asked, her voice muffled into his chest.

"The oven timer," he murmured into her hair, enjoying the ticklish movement of her lips against his skin. I put some croissants in the oven before I got in the shower, thought I might need some extra ammunition to win you round," he offered contritely. "Besides, I haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon." She smiled up at him affectionately in return, the softness in her upturned face prompting him to lean down to kiss her gently. "I don't deserve you," he whispered, breaking away. "But I can't lose you."

"You haven't," Millie replied quietly, combing back his wet hair with her fingers. "But, please, no more secrets. No more."

Max nodded and clutched her tightly in relief. "I'd better sort out breakfast before it burns," he murmured. "Why don't you take a shower while I do? Then we can make plans for today. I suppose you want to come into the station?"

"I don't know. I should go back and see Dad, but he doesn't want to see me. It's like I remind him of Mum too much. He seems to have given up already," she finished glumly.

"We're going to get her back."

"You don't know that."

"But I have to believe that we will, and you should too," Max stated firmly holding her face in his hands. "Now, shower. You'll feel better and then we'll talk some more."

Millie turned her face into his palm and pressed it to her lips. Relief that they had reached some sort of truce mingled with the underlying heaviness in her heart. She rose from the bed, her fingers lingering with his as she left him to go into the bathroom. Max sighed and rubbed at his face, emotionally exhausted but more than a least a little grateful that she hadn't raised the matter of leaving London. With that thought in mind, he dressed quickly and casually before heading out to the kitchen to salvage what he could from the charred remains on the baking tray.

Millie showered and dressed in record time, not wishing to dally and allow her mind to wander and think the dark thoughts that would only deepen her depression. She and Max had managed to find some light out of their mindless clash the night before and she desperately needed to cling to that, determined to quash the niggling doubt which refused to disappear entirely. She ambled though into the living room, refreshed and feeling more positive that she had done for nearly forty-eight hours to discover Max had given up on the croissants and instead resorted to scrambled eggs and toast.

He smiled at her affectionately. "Your phone made a noise a minute ago."

"Oh, thanks." Millie hoiked up her bag from the floor by the sofa and fished around in its depths for her phone, eventually pulling it out and checking the message. The world seemed to stop as she stared at the small screen.

"Millie? You okay?" He took a step towards her. "What is it?" Millie handed him the phone wordlessly, her eyes round with shock. Max went cold at her reaction and looked down at the text on the screen. "Carly Fleischmann – Portman House car park," he read out loud, then murmured, "shit, that doesn't sound good."

"Where is Portman House? It sounds familiar."

"It's an office block, on the Winnall Trading Estate." Max scrolled back on the phone. "Damn, it's from an unknown number," he exclaimed in frustration, whoever had sent the message knew Millie's number, reminding him that this was far too close to home. He had to keep her safe and if that meant she would be glued to his side, then so be it. Regardless how unconventional that might be in the eyes of his colleagues.

**-ooOoo-**

Max glanced at Millie by his side in the car. Paler than usual and tight-lipped, but otherwise outwardly calm. In between the half dozen or so phone calls he'd made immediately after reading the text message, he had managed to persuade her to eat some of the breakfast already prepared and waiting on the table. He'd wolfed down the rest while she urged him to hurry up. Fortunately the morning traffic was light as they sped towards the largely unoccupied trading estate. Meadows had been informed, Manson was on his way together with a uniform team and a Trojan unit. Just in case.

Portman House was an ugly example of the recession in Canley, one of the many blots on the already blemished landscape. An over ambitious refurbishment project of a near derelict building by an inexperienced developer just as the market for commercial property turned and took a nosedive through the floor. It couldn't have been a worse combination of factors and the resultant eyesore was an inevitable outcome. Enough scaffolding remained to make the building safe but beyond that it was no more than a stripped out shell, untouched by neither the developer nor the liquidator for well over two years. Metal grilles covered what should have been windows, plastered with notices declaring the threats of a private security service but what was left of the doors had been forced open regardless and the collecting rubbish littering the front of the building indicated the type of occupants that the hapless developer had never imagined.

An area car and a van were already at the building when Max and Millie arrived. In the rear view mirror he noticed Manson pull in behind with someone in the passenger seat next to him, Max couldn't see who it was but assumed it must be Suzie.

From the area car emerged the unmistakeable figure of Jo Masters and Max drew up next to her. "So, what are we dealing with?" asked Jo as Max got out of the car, her eyes flicking to Millie while she addressed him.

"Don't know yet. Millie received a text message about an hour ago indicating Carly Fleischmann may be here in the car park."

"Hmm. Let's hope all of her is here, rather than just another piece," commented Jo dryly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Max saw Millie wince but otherwise hold herself together. He reminded himself that she really was tougher than he gave her credit for and she wanted to be here, not to be protected and shielded out of harm's way. "Yeah, well. Where's the Trojan unit?"

"Should be here any minute," she paused, looking over Max's shoulder. "Morning, Sir."

"Morning, Jo," replied Neil seriously. "Max, Millie."

"Morning," they replied in unison. Max looked at Millie questioningly as she raised her eyebrows and he spun round to see Grace wandering over from the car, her phone pressed to her ear.

"Yes, alright, I'll let them know, Sarge," she finished, clicking the phone shut. "DS Leighton, she announced to the gathering. "He's on his way, with DS Sim," she shot a quick glance at Neil, the two of them sharing some sort of secret code.

"Right, well we'll wait for the Trojan unit and then go in," began Max, uninterested in Grace's information. "They need to secure the building first and then we can get inside. Jo, can you get a couple of bodies round the back now, just in case there is anyone in there who makes a run for it."

"Of course," agreed Jo. "Looks like the boys with their guns are here," she nodded towards the van containing armed officers turning off the service road towards them.

While Jo returned to her team, Max made his way over towards the van as it came to a standstill. Millie watched as he calmly spoke to the officer in charge, giving information and instructions. Part of her still couldn't come to terms with his ability to deal with this as if the victims were strangers with no link to him whatsoever, while she felt like some sort of zombie, going through the motions of breathing and communicating, pretending that she was just as capable of being objective as he. But this was where he was in his element, most at ease. He was talking the language best known to him and commanding the scene. Matters of the heart had little relevance.

With a pat on his comrade's back, Max left the armed officers to pour out from the van and after a short briefing take up their positions around the building. Within seconds they had all disappeared leaving everyone else to stand and wait. Millie held her breath, her heart pounding at what might follow next. She didn't believe the kidnappers would still be there and she knew Max didn't either, but there was no way of telling what else they might find. Suddenly there was a loud shout and a scream from the back of the building. Two uniformed officers ran round to the rear only to emerge seconds later with an extremely filthy, long-haired vagrant struggling between them. Millie let out her breath in a rush, deflating her body so much so that she thought she might collapse dizzily, but a hand gripped hers, bolstering her resolve. She hadn't even realised that he had been standing next to her all along.

"Clear!" came the cry announcing that the Trojan team had completed their work and after a final squeeze, his hand left hers.

"Right, everyone ready? Let's get in there," called Max, taking a couple of steps forward before turning back to Millie. "Stay here," he tried to be authoritative but even to his own ears he sounded weak. There was no way she would do as he hoped.

"No, I'm coming in."

"But-"

"I'm coming in with you."

_With you_. At least she was with him. His shoulders slumped and he nodded, giving in to the inevitable.

Neil and Grace watched the short exchange covertly. "Are you...?" Grace gestured at the building to Neil after Max and Millie walked towards it.

"No, I'll hang on here. Max doesn't need me looking over his shoulder. You go, though," he suggested blandly, his focus on the building in front of them. Grace gave a tight smile in response, increasingly irked by the mixed messages she was receiving. He'd been so chatty in the car, nothing too personal and nothing at all serious. Conversation had centred mainly on the wizardry of the Science Museum and the incredible contents of the Natural History Museum, both recently visited with his son. He had made Grace smile at his obvious love of spending time with the boy, even though he felt like some sort of dinosaur in the face of Jake's clear technological superiority. A sign of the times, he had noted with an affectionate sigh. But now, not so much as a hint of familiarity came from him.

"Okay," she agreed reluctantly and made her way over to where Jo was standing, slightly apart from the others, annoyed for feeling so ridiculously disappointed.

"What was all that about earlier? On the phone?" murmured Jo to Grace as Max came to the end of his instructions to the assembled group.

"What do you mean? About Tommy and Suzie?"

"Hmm?"

"Well, neither was in the station this morning before we got the call from Max."

"Really, so they're ..."

"Coming over here together," confirmed Grace with a conspiratorial smile, grateful for a reason to think about something else other than her own confusing state of affairs.

"Interesting," drawled Jo, "but not quite as interesting as that little thing between you and our DCI over there."

"What thing?" exclaimed Grace hotly.

"Oh never mind, I won't say anything. Not one to gossip, me."

"But there isn't-"

"No, of course not. Anyway, less about you. We've got a missing woman to find," Jo declared efficiently while pulling on her purple gloves with a snap and strode away to catch up with her team, leaving a flustered Grace following in her footsteps.

With everybody clear in their purpose, and Millie by his side, Max made his way down the ramp and into the underground car park of Portman House. Unlike the main building itself, this had not been boarded up, the security company having thought it pointless to do so. The car park was not completely below street level, open arches no more than two feet at their highest performed a ring around the base of the building, providing easy access to anyone so inclined. Inside, the walls were marked with damp despite the recent heat, algae coloured the breeze block walls in streaks of green and brown. Tattered boxes and newspaper were strewn over the floor, piling up against the walls and pillars, the sound of empty drinks cans trodden on by the incomers echoed noisily off the walls. Here and there, stacked pallets had been arranged to provide additional shelter for the homeless inhabitants, long gone except for the one now in police custody. Max believed he had a good idea just what had caused such an hospitable place to have been abandoned.

Unconsciously, Max and Millie wandered apart, each concentrating on their search for anything that might be a link to Carly. Several minutes passed and murmurings of disappointment grew louder, frustration that the search appeared to be futile. In the far corner, in what appeared to be a recessed alcove, Millie saw a length of rope lying on the floor from behind a stack of pallets. She cocked her head to one side in puzzlement and slowly moved towards it. The line of the rope took her behind the pallets to where several more lay stacked on their sides. The rope snaked up to the top of the pile and was loosely wound round a pile of dirty tarpaulin. Gingerly, she tugged at the material, then more forcefully as it began to give way. She wanted to stop but her hands wouldn't obey the warning in her head, telling her to call for help. Desperately she clawed at the rope to loosen it enough to reveal whatever the bundle contained. Her heart thumped while she held her breath and at last the rope gave way, with one final tug she pulled apart the tarpaulin.

Millie knew it was Carly immediately even though the sight bore no resemblance to the carefully groomed woman she had clashed with just a few days earlier. She stood transfixed by the flat dead eyes staring straight back at her. Her hair was shorn close to her scalp with only a few rough tufts to remind of the once abundant waves and her tanned skin was now grey and cold. Between her nose and mouth, blood had dried to a blackish red, completing the sickening horror.

A strangled cry left Millie's mouth, shock paralysing her body from moving and stopping the involuntary reaction with her hand. She'd seen dead bodies before, several in fact and although it was never any less unpleasant, she had learnt to become less disturbed by the experiences. But this was different. Carly had never been a friend, but Millie had grown up with her almost as a cousin, an integral part of her life and was the beloved child of a man she had deeply cared about. It was different.

Max heard the sound. Barely looking where he was going, seeking only to take the shortest possible route to get to Millie, he scrambled over a heap of crushed boxes, tripping and only just managing to regain his balance by sheer determination to rescue her from whatever she had found, hoping it would be nothing more than a dead rat. But his hopes were quickly dashed. Even at a distance he could see what she was staring at. In a fraction of a second he pulled her away, holding her face firmly into his shoulder.

"Over here!" he shouted towards Jo, manoeuvring Millie out of the path of the oncoming officers and away from the body in the corner.


	31. Chapter 31

**For Kit, I hope it's what you've been after!**

**(BTW, for the benefit of non-UK readers Alan Johnson is a politician. Can't say that even I know what Ed Miliband is ...) **

-ooOoo-

"People ... people! This is a crime scene, if you haven't noticed! Respect the evidence, please!" But Eddie's plea did little other than gain grumbles and moans at his superior attitude. He tutted at the lack of deference paid to his profession. "Size nines, all over the place," he mumbled more to himself than anyone else, mainly because no one else seemed very interested, not even the DI.

"Oi! Some of us are size sixes if you don't mind," Jo nudged him gently, peeling off her gloves. "Anyway, we had a search to conduct. What do you expect us to do, float two inches above the ground?"

"Just be careful, that's all," he muttered in response. "Right, my lot, you know what to do," he called out to his blue overall clad team, "which is more than can be said for the rest of you," he continued under his breath, earning himself another glare from Jo.

Millie blankly watched the exchange between the two friends from behind Max's shoulder as he continued to hold her. It was as if they were standing in the middle of a film, the actors playing their roles around them. She blinked hard in an effort to bring herself into the reality of what she saw and pulled away from Max enough to put a few inches between their bodies, even though his hands remained protectively on her shoulder blades, keeping her close. "You'd better do whatever you need to do," she told him quietly.

Max had been staring at Carly's body, partially covered by the dirty tarpaulin but her soft words drew his attention away from the horrifically enthralling sight. "You're still in shock. I'm not leaving you," he stated firmly.

"Please. I'm okay. It was a shock, but ... but I'm okay." Max looked unconvinced, prompting Millie to up the pressure. "Really," she added with a crooked smile and took a step back, his hands falling away from her reluctantly. "They," she nodded at the now rather directionless uniformed team, "need you to take charge of this. I'm going to wait outside, out of the way."

-oo-

"Feeling any better?" Tommy asked as he pulled off the road and parked next to Max's car.

"I'm fine," Suzie snapped back, taking off her sunglasses and failing to hide her wince at the bright morning sunlight.

"Liar. You'd better keep those on," Tommy remarked with a smile.

"Smug bastard."

"I didn't encourage you to crack open that bottle of Baileys, in fact I think I recall suggesting that it wasn't a good idea, but oh no, you knew better."

"Shut up. And if you say anything-"

"There's nothing to tell, Suzie. Nothing to tell."

Suzie took a deep breath, half in relief half in regret. After all, the prospect of having something to regret had been part of her reason for inviting him back to her place to continue working on the case. And they had worked. Aided by a bottle of red, they had ploughed through document after document, made note after note for nearly three hours before Tommy had declared enough. But by this time, they were on the second bottle and Suzie had insisted that he couldn't possibly get behind the wheel of his car.

She was right, of course. Tommy knew that and jeopardising his career by being caught for drunk-driving wasn't an option. But he hadn't been sure where she was headed next and was still none the wiser by the end of the second bottle. Her determination to sink the Baileys had surprised him. He hated the stuff but even so had managed to join her in one small glass and watch her demolish the rest with abandon while she animatedly talked ten to the dozen. He had listened and smiled, she was funny. Really funny. Who knew that? And cute. Self-deprecating too. Every now and then he tucked her hair behind one ear as she regaled him with stories and her own ranting opinions on everything from chewing gum to Ed Miliband and whether Alan Johnson had indeed resigned that day because his wife had had an affair with a police officer. She was sceptical, naturally.

Tommy remembered laughing at her surprised disappointment when she realised the Baileys bottle was empty when she tipped it to her glass and stared at it as if she couldn't have possibly finished it, flashing him an accusatory glance. From his reclining position on the sofa, Tommy had raised his hands in innocence and with furrowed brows she had mumbled that she was sure there was another somewhere. Shakily, Suzie rose to her feet from the sofa only to immediately collapse back down, losing her balance and falling against him.

With eyes that refused to focus properly, Suzie had gazed up at him, her hands resting against his chest, hazily wondering if he might ... She suddenly clamped a hand to her mouth and jerked away, her head spinning with the sudden movement. Somehow her body found the momentum to stumble from the sofa and with the aid of his body supporting her from behind, she staggered to the bathroom, his hand reached round to lift the loo seat just in time before she ... At the top of the ramp leading down into the basement car park, Suzie squeezed her eyes shut at the revolting memory, the last memory she had had of the evening before she woke up in her bed a few hours later wearing only her underwear.

Teetering on her heels, her balance was definitely off, she should have worn flats, Suzie struggled to keep up with Tommy who strode down the ramp unaware of her handicap until he reached the bottom and looked back to find her only half way down. "Do you need a hand?" he asked with a smile, delighting in her awkwardness and taking even more pleasure at the scowl she gave him in return. Finally she drew level and on less precarious ground took the lead, marching past him with as much grace as her hungover body could muster. It took a few moments before she noticed the couple in the far corner, surrounded by bustling uniformed officers and blue scene of crime personnel. She stopped to allow someone past, giving Tommy the opportunity to catch up with her. Staring ahead, she finally realised who the couple were, drawn to the sight of them, at odds with the surrounding activity. Was that what it looked like to be in love, she wondered. To be so close, so oblivious to the furtive whispers and glances shot in their direction. Could she ever look like that? Could he ...? She locked eyes with Tommy just for a moment then turning away before he could see her embarrassment, certain that he knew what she was thinking.

-oo-

Tommy stood next to Max, watching at the scene of crime team eased Carly into a body bag and slowly pulled the zip closed. "How's Millie doing? I heard she found the body."

Max sighed. "I don't know. She says she's fine but ..." he shrugged and glanced across at Tommy who was massaging the back of his neck, clearly in some discomfort. "What's up with you?"

"Ah, you know how it is, Guv. Men of our age aren't designed to sleep on sofas. My penance for being a gentleman," he chuckled, smiling at the events of the previous evening. "Count yourself lucky you're well past all that now, with your girl."

Confused, Max was just about to ask him to explain further when Jo appeared in his line of sight.

"Guv?"

"Er, yes, Jo?" he answered, his attention divided between the two sergeants.

"We've had a report of a RTA on Canley High Street."

"And?" demanded Max in exasperation.

"It's a white van with blacked out windows." Now Jo had his full attention. "It matches the description of the van used to abduct Sondra Brown. And," she paused, her eyes flicking between Max and Tommy, "the attending officers found a Russian language newspaper in the front seat. Two men inside, the driver is dead, but the passenger is on his way to St. Hugh's with severe injuries."

"Anyone else in the van?" asked Max in desperate hope.

"Sorry," Jo shook her head compassionately, touched by the flash of vulnerability in his usually emotionless voice.

Max closed his eyes and nodded, reigning back in his momentary lapse of self-control. He took a deep breath and exhaled, considering his next steps. His gut reaction was to go to St Hugh's himself and regardless of the state of the injured man, find out if he was connected to the abductions, and now murder. Max deliberated the matter in his head before coming to a reluctant conclusion. "Tommy, get over to the scene. Check out the van, see what you find inside, then go to St Hugh's. Talk to the passenger, find out who he is and whether there is a link to this case. Take Suzie with you." He peered at her over Tommy's shoulder, slumped against one the metal pillars. "Is she alright?"

Tommy looked back over his shoulder. "She'll survive," he answered with a grin. "Leave it with me, Guv. I'll call you as soon as we get anything."

-oo-

Having left Max, Tommy and Suzie down in the car park, Grace trudged back up the ramp, her head bowed. With Eddie's team gathering everything and anything that looked like it could be evidence, she was surplus to requirement. As she neared the top and Neil came into view, still by his car and once again with the phone once again pressed to his ear, so did the rather crumpled forlorn figure of Millie Brown. She was sitting on the end of a broken down wall, little more than a roughly held together pile of bricks. Grace cringed inwardly. She couldn't keep on going if Neil was taking an important call, but she didn't much feel like standing around here either. She dithered, only for a moment but it was just long enough for Millie to become aware of someone standing close by and look up. With no escape route, Grace had little option but to offer a weak smile in greeting. Millie stared at her for a couple of seconds before returning the gesture. Stalemate. Grace took a fortifying breath.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked.

Millie shrugged and looked away into the middle distance. If she could have chosen anyone to sit next to right now, it certainly wouldn't have been Grace Dasari, but it felt childish to tell her to get lost, even if that was what her instinct pressed her to do. Grace would be an easy target but after her fight with Max she knew better than to lash out. It wouldn't really make her feel any better for more than a few moments and then would only make her feel even more wretched.

Grace took the shrug as permission, albeit reluctantly given. "Look," she began quietly, sitting down precariously next to Millie. "I'm sorry about the other day." Millie remained silent, her lips pressed together. "But ... but I've been having a difficult time lately and well, I suppose I lost it and let everything come out."

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?" retorted Millie acidly.

Grace felt her cheeks burn. It had been hard enough to confront Max with her apology, but Millie couldn't be blamed for his crimes, she had never uttered a word against Grace and her tone felt all the more pointed for it.

"Did he touch her?" she went on abruptly, catching Grace off guard.

"What?"

"Did he touch her?" Millie repeated the words slowly as if talking to a small child.

"I ... er..." Grace found herself trapped by the younger woman's normally mild eyes, now sharpened and intense.

"No," Grace admitted finally.

"But she was all over him?"

"Yes," she confirmed.

"Did he try to stop her?"

"No, at least, I don't think so."

"Did he look like he was enjoying it? Did he lead her on?"

"I thought so."

"Thought?"

"I - I'm not so sure."

"Why?"

Grace shrugged uncomfortably, this was too much like interrogation. "Perhaps I only saw what I wanted to see. He could have jumped away, put some distance between them but apart from that he didn't do anything else to encourage her attention." She paused. "I didn't believe him at the time."

"Believe what?"

"That he was only playing along to see what she would tell him. I certainly didn't think it was professional."

"And now?"

"Well ... it's just the way he was yesterday, before Neil and I interviewed Austin. He looked so ... so ..."

"What?"

"Sad, I suppose. Defeated, even." Grace sighed. "Millie, I'm not going to tell you that he's a great boss or a nice guy. He's not, not to me anyway, and I'm not going pretend otherwise. He's been a bastard to me ever since Neil left, but yesterday I saw something different that made me think that maybe he's not as bad as I thought, even if I don't always agree with his tactics. Maybe I've been guilty of blaming him for everything that has gone wrong recently rather than taking responsibility for my own decisions. I don't think we will ever be such a good team as ..." she broke off for a moment, "but if I want anything to change, then I have to do something about it," she finished firmly.

Millie looked down at the ground, hugging her arms to her chest, taking in Grace's explanation. "We weren't talking. Well, I wasn't talking. He tried," offered Millie with a frankness that surprised Grace considering her previously demanding tone. "I couldn't cope, didn't know what to think anymore. Maybe you and I have that in common. I'm not a fool, Grace," Millie looked at her piercingly, repeating her description of Millie a couple of days before. "I know what he is. I know how he can be. Of course, I wish he wouldn't be so cold towards other people, so unfeeling. And trust me, I tell him when I think he's out of line. But at home, with me, he's different. Generous, loving. You probably wouldn't recognise him. Mum hit the nail on the head when she said that he was just like my father, history repeating itself. I think that's the only reason why Dad puts up with him. Mum reminded him that her parents had only driven them together by refusing to have anything to do with Dad. That's what she's like. Always knows what to do, what to say. I miss her so much. Can't bear to think that ..." she paused, her brow furrowing as she fought to keep control and then continued with a forced brightness. "You know, Max might admit to being a bit scared of Dad, but he's probably more scared of losing Mum's approval. Saying that, I'd have liked to be a fly on the wall when Max went to ask Dad for-" Millie stopped suddenly, chewing her lower lip.

Grace wondered whether to prompt her to continue her monologue. It sounded so deeply personal, but she got the impression that Millie really needed someone to talk to and she just happened to be the only one listening. "For what?"

Millie turned to face Grace. "You won't tell anyone?" she asked, worried. "Promise?"

Grace shook her head. "No, not if you don't want me to."

"Nobody knows, except for my family and my best friend. Max asked me to marry him, last weekend. We were so happy, we were all so happy. We didn't see any of this coming," she finished on a whisper.

"Oh, Millie," sighed Grace, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder but unable to offer anything more. Of course she wanted to tell her that everything would be okay, that Sondra would be returned safe and well to her family, that a wedding would eventually take place without the spectre of a missing mother. But the words wouldn't come because having seen the remains of Carly Fleischmann, it seemed such an unlikely outcome.

Millie sniffed and blinked hard, pushing back the sadness into a place deep inside that she could pretend to manage. "I think you might be safe now," she nodded to the distant figure of Neil Manson ambling towards them, no longer on the phone.

"I can stay with you, if you'd like?" Grace offered quietly. Talking to Millie had felt like another step towards her own rehabilitation, she didn't want to leave just yet.

"No, I'm waiting for Max to finish in there. We're going to see Georgie, to tell him about Carly. But thank you ... and thank you for telling me what you did. It helps to make sense of things."

"Okay, well if you're sure," Grace's voice filled with concern.

"I am," nodded Millie. "He won't be long. Oh, and Grace?" she asked as Grace rose to her feet.

"Yes?"

"Don't make any plans just yet, about your future that is."

Grace looked at her in confusion and was just about to ask her to explain when bickering voices floated up from the ramp behind them.

"Well, you shouldn't have worn those shoes!"

"I can _walk_ perfectly well in them," responded a voice huffily. "You _could _slow down though."

Tommy came to a standstill, and theatrically turned round to wait for Suzie trotting behind him. "Happy now?"

"Yes," she confirmed equally emphatically and swept past.

Tommy followed her, unable to suppress his smile until he saw the morose expression of Millie. "Ah, Millie. Grace. We have a lead, a RTA on Canley High Street. Might be the van that the kidnappers used, we're off to check it out."


	32. Chapter 32

**Get your eagle eyes out! There's a teeny tiny hint for yet another sequel in this chapter ...**

**Thank you for all reviews, much appreciated!**

-ooOoo-

As they approached the scene of the six-vehicle pile-up Suzie felt her hangover giving way to excitement. It had been a long time since she had found herself at the sharp end of front line policing and had forgotten how thrilling it could be to be out there pursuing a lead, getting involved, getting a result. Hopefully. Poring over spreadsheets and documents looking for the slightest traces of evidence and forging alliances with international agencies had its appeal, but didn't make her blood race. Not like this.

Tommy pulled up behind the cordon, three marked cars, two ambulances and a fire engine were already there, their occupants hard at work attending to the injured and traumatised as well as pulling apart the wreckage. One motorbike, four cars and the white van were twisted together in an unholy mess. Smoke rose from the crumpled bonnets and the bike lay between the front and rear wheels of the van which had smashed into a lamppost. Tommy quickly took stock with a practised eye. By some miracle, the motorcyclist appeared only mildly injured, albeit dazed, sitting on the kerb with a paramedic holding a pad to his knee. Several others wandered about swathed in silver blankets to stave off the shivering cold brought on by shock. But it was only the van that interested him and with a nod to Suzie, together they made their way through the chaotic melee.

"Calum? What have we got?"

"Oh, hello Tommy," Stone nodded a grimace-like greeting in Suzie's direction which she returned with a cool stare. "The driver's dead. He wasn't wearing a seatbelt and the airbags didn't work, but the passenger was wearing his belt and is on his way to St Hugh's. It was Mel that noticed," he continued breezily as he walked to the side of the van and opened the door for Tommy and Suzie to look inside at the bloody mess. "The Russian newspaper alerted her, and when she checked for ID, she found one of them carrying this," he held up a clear plastic bag containing a passport. "No idea if it is genuine, but it is Russian. The van matches the description of what we've been looking out for, fake plates of course, but when the fire crew are ready we can check the chassis number and maybe find out who it belongs to."

"Great. Have you looked in the back?" asked Suzie.

"Of course."

"And?"

"Nothing, just an old tarpaulin and some rope." Both sets of eyes sharpened in Calum's direction. "What? Do you want to see it?" But Tommy had already disappeared into the back of the van by the time Calum had finished speaking with Suzie close on his heels.

"Suzie!" he called from inside. "Suzie, looks to me like the same stuff Carly was wrapped in. I'd say we've found our kidnappers."

-ooOoo-

It took Max nearly fifteen minutes to find the nerve to bring up the subject occupying his mind more than it should in the present circumstances. "What did she say to you?"

"Who?" asked Millie absently, her mind being firmly focussed on the matter of how they would tell Georgie that his daughter had been found dead in an abandoned building.

"Grace. I saw her sitting with you earlier, outside."

"Oh her," she replied quietly. "This and that."

Max bit down on the inside of his lip. He couldn't decide if she was being intentionally evasive or genuinely distracted but he really wanted to know what Grace had said this time and what possibly consequences it might have for him. "What sort of this and that?"

Millie pondered how to answer. "She doesn't like you much, does she?"

Max shrugged. "Not part of the job to be her friend."

"No," agreed Millie, "but probably is part of the job to be supportive towards her."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She said that the reason she said what she did the other day was because she has been having a really rough time since you became DI. That you've been a complete bastard to her, her words, not mine," Millie paused for a moment before continuing. "Have you?" She studied her hands in her lap carefully, worried what her question might bring to light. It suited her to ignore certain traits of his character, most of the time anyway.

Max sat up a little straighter, not so pleased with the turn this conversation was taking. His initial reaction was to give Grace something to really despise him for but then he remembered her apology the previous day and just how much she had put into Austin's interview, even if little had come from it. "I might have been a bit hard on her from time to time," he admitted carefully. "She's a good officer, but too sentimental and it affects her judgement."

"Because she's a woman."

Thankfully the lights ahead were red and he slowed the car to a standstill. It gave Max a chance to shut his eyes for a moment and take a deep breath. "No. Not because she's a woman, she just gets too involved sometimes. Mickey does the same thing and as far as I know, he isn't a woman," the lights turned green, "and he doesn't take every word of criticism as a personal attack. Neither does Stevie for that matter and she is definitely a woman."

"So it's Grace's fault?"

Max sighed. "No, like I said, perhaps I've been too hard, on occasion. What else did she say?" he went on, feeling like he was hurtling headlong towards his own execution but unable to bring himself to a halt.

"That she was sorry for what she said and maybe you weren't so bad after all. She might have just been saying that to make me feel better though," Millie finished with a small smile.

"Probably," Max agreed with a quick glance, relieved that the worst must be over if she was trying to make a joke out of it.

The pair lapsed into silence, much to Max's relief and for a few minutes Millie shared his contentment. Yet something gnawed away at her. She was no good at keeping secrets from him and somewhat perversely she wanted him to know. "I told her ..." Millie stopped and bit down on her lower lip guiltily.

"What?" concerned suspicion entered into his voice.

She eyed him nervously, grateful that he was driving and had to keep his attention on the road ahead. "I told her that we got engaged at the weekend."

"You did what?" he exploded.

Millie gripped her seat as the car suddenly swerved to the left. "It just sort of came out. She won't tell anyone."

"Yeah, because she's so good at keeping her mouth shut," he muttered bitterly, bringing the car and himself back under control.

Millie sank back into her seat glumly. She knew this would be his reaction, so why did she tell him? Certainly not because of the 'no secrets' deal. No, she had wanted to provoke him, again. To punish him, or was that herself. Both, she decided firmly, it seemed the least worrying reason. "Sorry," she murmured.

Max sighed. "Don't be. We're all doing things, saying things that under other circumstances we probably wouldn't." With one hand still on the wheel, he reached out to rest the other on her thigh. "I did want to keep it quiet for a while, to enjoy it without everyone talking about us and what it is that you see in me. But that's all been blown out of the water anyway."

Millie covered his hand with hers, her throat constricting and making it impossible for her to say anything. This simple gesture was all she could manage. God, she was sick of crying but it was impossible not to feel emotional at just how hard he was trying to be sensitive for her benefit. Besides, there was another niggling worry that even she wasn't prepared to face today.

Reluctantly Max had to pull his hand away to hit the indicator and turn left. They had arrived at Georgie Fleischmann's house.

-oo-

Max frowned slightly, trying to remember where he had seen that gold Lexus before. Parked where Richard's Mercedes had once been and next to Roger's rather more utilitarian Toyota, it sparked a memory but annoyingly he couldn't figure out where from. Roger opened the door having already answered the intercom at the gate and let them through.

"Millie! How are you?" he asked with genuine warmth.

"I'm doing okay."

"Really?" Roger asked, peering at her a little more closely. Max watched on, they had an unusual relationship. Not exactly friends in the ordinary way, it was somehow more familial than that. From what he had seen, Roger behaved more like a Godfather towards Millie than Georgie ever had and no matter how ridiculous it might be, Max could never help feeling irritated to have Roger as another rival for her affection.

"No, not really," she admitted, "but I'm not giving in."

Roger squeezed her upper arm encouragingly, as if to say 'that's my girl'. Resenting his familiarity, Max moved in closer and gained a friendly smile from Roger in return which only served to make him feel stupid for his resentment. "So, you're here to see Georgie?"

"Yes, how's he been?" asked Max briskly, feeling the need to put the exchange on a more professional and therefore more comfortable footing.

"Pretty bad, if I'm honest. But a friend of his has just dropped in and he seems to have bucked up a bit."

"What friend?" asked Max, the memory of where he knew the car from becoming clear at the same moment that Roger replied.

"Charlie Hammond."

-oo-

"Charlie! Now this is a surprise."

Hammond looked back in surprise at the voice calling through from the darkened doorway and into the kitchen, yet again drenched in morning sunlight. Immediately, Max noted the flash of concern across his features, the slight shake of his hand holding a full cup of coffee.

"Oh! Mr Carter-" he stopped suddenly as Millie followed into his line of sight. He took a sharp breath in. "And you must be Richard's eldest girl," he continued softly, concern transforming into something more like sadness. "I haven't clapped eyes on you since you were a babe in your mother's arms." Millie tensed at the mention of her mother and Max stiffened next to her protectively. "Just like her, you are. Just like her."

Max stared at him hard in an effort to try to figure out just what had turned his usual jovial demeanour into near nervous wreckage. But it was no good, the man wouldn't take his eyes off Millie. For her part, she returned his gaze, bristling at his invasiveness. "What are you doing here, Charlie?" Max decided to abandon telepathy and return to a more trustworthy method of information gathering.

"Uh ..." Charlie blinked, his eyes flitting between Millie and Max, gathering his wits.

"What are you doing here?" repeated Max insistently.

"Well, I er ... er, felt I should er, offer Georgie a bit of support."

"Really?" replied Max sceptically. "I didn't think the two of you were exactly friends."

"We go back to before when you were born," a gravelly voice slurred from the furthest reaches of the conservatory. "Let him be. No one else has shown any kindness."

Max turned back to Roger who gave him an exasperated shrug in return at Georgie's drunken state. It wasn't yet eleven o'clock. "Has he been drinking all morning?"

"All morning and most of the night from what I can gather. I've been here since yesterday and he hasn't moved from that chair, other than to, well you know. I've tried to talk to him ..." Roger trailed off apologetically, turning his attention to Millie. She gave him an understanding smile and then after a deep breath, took a step toward the conservatory.

Max caught her arm and pulled her back to face him. "You don't need to do this. I can tell him." Millie shook her head mutely. "Well at least let me be with you when-"

"No. Thank you," she rested a hand on his where it still held her and gently lifted his fingers away, entwining them with hers briefly before pulling them away, "but I think I had better talk to him alone."

He frowned but knew there would be no dissuading her from her course of action. With a minor degree of self-loathing for what he believed to be his own inadequacy, Max let her turn and walk into the conservatory.

Empty bottles littered the floor at Georgie's feet with one, half empty, on the table at his side. "Georgie? It's me," she called out softly.

"What do you want?" he mumbled, lifting a Scotch filled glass to his lips and draining it with a well-practised tip of his head, then automatically reaching out for a refill. Millie covered the distance quickly and dragged a chair up to his side. Her stomach churned with apprehension at what she was going to tell him and she fought against recoiling from the reeking stench of alcohol on his breath.

"Georgie, please, stop for a moment." She stilled his hand holding the bottle and gently guided it back down to the table. "I have something to tell you," she began, aware that she was stalling for her own benefit. Georgie's bloodshot eyes looked down at her hand and slowly lifted to draw level with hers. He knew, she could tell, he knew. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm really sorry, but we found Carly's body this morning."

"Where?"

"In the underground car park of Portman House, on the Winnall Trading Estate."

"How?" his voice cracked. "How did you know where to find her?

"I received an anonymous text message."

"My girl," he whispered, tears falling down his cheeks, "my girl!"

Millie leant into take hold of both his hands, to share in his grief rather than let her own take over. She couldn't afford to let in the thought that her own mother might already share the same fate. She had to believe that they would find her in time.

-oo-

"What's happened?" asked Charlie watching the scene from the kitchen with Max and Roger. Max couldn't be completely sure, but there was a definite edge to Charlie's voice.

"We found Carly's body, it looks like she's been dead nearly twenty-four hours." Charlie's eyes opened wide while Max's narrowed. "We've got a potential lead," he continued airily. "The van that we believe was used to transport her body was involved in a serious accident. Just waiting to hear who it belongs to." Colour drained from Charlie's normally tanned face, leaving him grey and pallid. Max was just about to ask what was wrong when his phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket to check the screen. "Excuse me," Max muttered and turned away. "Yes Tommy?" He listened intently with a quick glance back at an increasingly anxious Hammond. "You're sure about that? No, no need. I've got it covered, I'll explain later. When can we expect forensics? Okay, yeah ... I'll see you both back at the station... one last thing, get Mickey to find out if Lesley knows either of the two men in the van will you? Thanks." He disconnected the call with a flourish and checked that Roger was in position at the door, just in case. "Well, Charlie. It seems you've got a bit of explaining to do."

"Wh- whatever do you mean, Mr Carter?" he tried to brazen out Max's question with his natural bravado, but the nervous stammer gave him away.

"What I mean, Mr Hammond, is that the van we believe was used to transport Carly and probably Sondra Brown, is registered to your company. It belongs to you."

Hammond waved a hand dismissively. "Can't be," he blustered, "must be a mistake. Fake number plates, cloning, I've heard of that happening."

"Oh no, no mistake. False plates were indeed used, but no one thought to file off the chassis number so we've tracked the vehicle that way, right back to you." The two men stared at each other in standoff while Roger maintained his position at the door, blocking Hammond's exit. Not that he seemed to be contemplating making any sudden movements. Sweat broke out on his usually cool forehead.

"Somebody must have stolen it," he grasped at straws.

"It's a possibility," conceded Max generously, "but surely someone would have reported it stolen since yesterday if that was the case."

"Well, er, one of my staff must have borrowed it," gabbled furiously.

"And how many of your staff are Russian?"

"I couldn't say, not exactly."

"I bet I can. None. So why would your van be driven by a couple of Russians who I am willing to bet will have connections to Kiril Barsukov? A man you claimed you have only a passing acquaintance with."

"This is complete nonsense! I only came here to offer some support to Georgie, but if-"

"I think we should continue this down at the station, don't you?"

"Absolutely not!"

"Up to you, Hammond. You can either come to the station with us voluntarily, or I will arrest you. Might be best to be seen to be co-operating with our enquiries, don't you? Bearing in mind you have a position as a respectable pillar of the community to maintain. Your choice."

-ooOoo-


	33. Chapter 33

_**A/**__**N I'm aware that some of this may not meet with everyone's approval, but I thought I'd go for a different take on a certain relationship ...**_

_**& also, a plea - I'm sure there must be some latent Mallie writers out there with ideas waiting to burst forth - do it!**_

-ooOoo-

"Jesus!" Tommy exclaimed in frustration, banging a fist against the wall outside the intensive care unit. The battered figure of a man, covered in what appeared to be a tangle of wires and tubes with only a white sheet to protect his modesty lay in the room behind them, sedated and therefore unable to answer any questions. "We're so close, I can feel it. What do you think? Hang on here for a bit longer?" He glanced back through the window in the door as if by magic the man might have come to in the past few seconds since a nurse had not so politely told him to get out. For once his charm had failed.

Had Suzie been less preoccupied she might have goaded him about that, but she barely noticed. Her thoughts were consumed by the uncovered link to Charlie Hammond and how she was going to find a way to report back to Manson before Max did.

"Suzie? Are you listening to me?"

"Huh?" she looked up in bewilderment. "Sorry, what?"

"Doesn't matter," he sighed morosely. "This guy isn't going anywhere anytime soon, let's get back to the nick."

"Oh, er ... yeah. Um, I need to go to the loo. Won't be a moment," and she scurried off through a nearby door, knowing that it was the only place where he probably wouldn't follow her.

Safely ensconced in the tiny cubicle she quickly hit the last number dialled on her phone and groaned audibly as it went straight to voicemail. She disconnected, waited a few seconds and tried again but luck eluded her and with time ticking by she had little choice but to leave a message. "Guv! It's me," she whispered hoarsely before realising that she didn't need to. "I don't know if you've heard but the van that was used to transport Carly Fleischmann belongs to Charlie Hammond. Tommy has already told Max and he is bringing Hammond in. Got to go, I'll find you as soon as I get back to Sun Hill. Don't call me and stay out of Max's way until I get there."

Tommy was lounging against the wall to the side of the door when she emerged into the corridor. "Feeling any better?"

"What?" Suzie snapped back.

"You're looking a bit green."

"I'm fine, just don't much like hospitals," she muttered with a degree of honesty. She didn't like hospitals, always felt like she'd be lucky not to pick up something nasty by simply walking the same floor as the patients, and some of the staff for that matter. On top of that, the alcohol gel played havoc with the skin on her hands, although not using it wasn't an option. This was where front line policing definitely lost its appeal and left her yearning for all those office based video-conferences.

Tommy narrowed his eyes in her direction. "You've been quiet since before we got her. Why?"

"Shouldn't we be going?" she retorted, deliberately avoiding giving him an answer. "You said yourself there's no point hanging around."

"Oh, so you were listening to me. Just ignoring me, eh?"

"If only I could," she bit back shrewishly, annoyed that she couldn't bring herself to relax around him. Torn between wanting to confide in Tommy that she and Manson knew more about Charlie Hammond than either would like to reveal and knowing that telling him would be an act of betrayal to her erstwhile mentor.

"What's got into you? Something you want to tell me?" he stared at her with those vibrantly blue eyes that seemed to knock straight through any defence that she could erect between them. Tommy cocked his head to one side and closed the gap between them, triggering the memory of her body against his the night before. Her breath hitched at his closeness, at the intensity that thrilled through her, at the sudden desire to recklessly throw old allegiances out of the window in favour of something new, something exciting. Without knowing what she would say she opened her mouth to speak, but it wasn't her voice that she heard.

"Are you still here?" barked the African, possibly Nigerian, accented nurse severely. "Didn't I tell you, Sergeant Leighton, that I will call if there is any change in his condition!"

And the moment passed. Leaving Tommy to appease the nurse, wordlessly, Suzie spun round and began to stalk away from the intensive care unit and out into the maze of hospital corridors, hoping that he wouldn't catch up with her until she had regained her composure. All she needed to do now was get to Neil before Max got to him.

-oo-

Millie followed Max up the ramp and into the station. Charlie Hammond and Ben Gayle were several minutes ahead of them, getting to know each other a little better no doubt in an interview room. She bowed her head and hid behind her hair, avoiding the sympathetic and curious glances of former colleagues and others she didn't recognise, concentrating on not getting her hopes up.

Back at Georgie's house, Max had explained in whispered tones that Hammond was connected to the abductions, that he owned the van. She had felt her heart stop for a moment as the significance of this development sunk in. Another step closer, or perhaps another dead end. What if he refused to talk, or what he said gave them nothing more than Austin already had? She knew that if this was the work of the near mythical Nikolai Antonov then they needed whoever could deliver him. So far the only one who fitted that bill was Kiril Barsukov, and currently they had nothing with which to touch him. Hammond, it seemed, had been dropped into their clutches out of the blue, surely this had to be for a reason, surely- she stopped herself, it might be nothing more than a diversion. On the drive back to Sun Hill, Millie remembered how Hammond had looked at her, how his gaze had made her skin crawl. It was as if he knew her, as if he wanted something from her. Oddly, it didn't feel sexual or predatory but all the same, she didn't like it and she didn't like him. It also sickened her that this man knew her mother, was perhaps even an old friend of her father, yet he was still able to be involved in the abductions. She couldn't comprehend how anyone who knew her mother could do that.

Suddenly Max stopped in front of her and consumed by her thoughts, coupled with not looking where she was going, she bumped into him, instantly finding some unexpected solace in the warmth and scent of his body as he turned. Instead of stepping back as she knew she should in the surroundings of the station, she leaned in a little closer, letting his hand find hers, feeling his breath against her skin.

"Why don't you grab some coffee while I make a start with Hammond?" he murmured into her ear. Millie pulled back sharply, frowning. Was he trying to push her aside yet again, keeping her out of the loop for fear that her emotions would get in the way. She opened her mouth to voice her complaint but he beat her to it. "Please," he pleaded earnestly, drawing her close again, "I don't think I can concentrate knowing you are watching and I need to get this right, it might be our only-" he finished suddenly as if only just realising that was indeed a possibility. "I don't want to screw this up, Millie. I promise ... I promise I'll come and find you the moment we're finished." Millie looked deep into his eyes, searching for truth in his words. She didn't have to search for long, it being one of those rare occasions where he allowed the barrier of self-assurance to fall away and let her see his weakness, weakness as he saw it.

Just at that moment, Ben's head popped out of a door just behind them. "Um, Guv? Oh! Sorry, to um, interrupt"

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Mr Hammond's asked for a cuppa, shall I er ..." he jerked his head in the vague direction of the coffee machine.

"Wait there, will you Ben. Charlie can wait a minute longer," Max ordered tersely, prompting Ben to retreat into the relatively calm haven of the interview room. With the interruption dealt with, Max turned his attention back to Millie, waiting anxiously for her response, heartened when her expression lost some of its scepticism and she nodded. He took a deep breath, as much in preparation for what might come as in relief for her acquiescence. Gently, and without thought to might be watching, he lifted a hand to her cheek, caressing it with his thumb. For a few moments, the low hum of the station, sounds of the lighting and apparently now repaired air-conditioning mingling with distant and hushed voices, ceased to exist as Max and Millie continued in their fragile rapprochement. But the sharp clicking of heels quickly heading their way on the hard floor pierced their intimacy, with Millie the first to pull regretfully out of the embrace. Shoes like that could belong to only one person and she was unlikely to be alone.

Max watched as Millie's eyes narrowed in the direction of the sound of approaching feet. "What is it?" he murmured, but there was no need of an answer as he took in the varied expressions on the faces of the trio heading their way. Manson was as coolly bland as ever but Suzie appeared unusually flustered, appearing to be unsure whether to look at her boss, the man behind or straight ahead. The countenance of the man behind, Tommy, was the most unexpected. His gaze appeared to be boring a hole into the back of Suzie's head, his lips tightly pursed. It could be no wonder if she felt uncomfortable. Another time, Max might have joked with his friend of sorts about what must have gone on between them. In these circumstances, however, concern outweighed amusement. As they walked past the open door, Manson stopped and peered in silently for a few seconds, his face in profile giving nothing away. While Tommy also came to a halt, taking his customary role as proxy eyes for Max, Suzie was left ignorant for a moment or two and nearly twisted an ankle on her high heels as she spun round, suddenly aware that she was no longer part of the gang. Awkwardly, solitary, she waited while Manson took his time and Tommy ignored her in favour of her boss.

Hammond sat listlessly, staring at his hands, shoulders slumped. There was barely a hint of the mercurial spirit that he employed when at his most entertaining, no laughter played on his lips, no joke made to deflect an awkward situation. Manson studied him, making his plan. They had too much history for anyone else to get their hands on Hammond and he still had too much to offer. Hammond's fingers were in many pies, this was only one and as it was turning out, maybe not the one Manson was really after. Taking him off the payroll for supplying transportation for a couple of abductions might deserve a rap across the knuckles, a fright perhaps, it might even secure the casino boss's place firmly in Manson's pocket for future use at lower cost, but as tragic as Carly Fleischmann's death might be, it was purely incidental. As if aware of being watched, the older man suddenly looked up and to his right, but he said nothing and in that moment of silent exchange, Manson knew they had an understanding of how this was going to go. Manson lifted his chin, his course of action determined and swung back round to his waiting audience.

"What's up?" asked Max, shifting his gaze from Suzie to Tommy and finally coming to rest on Neil.

Manson took a few steps away from the door and past Suzie. After leaning in to pull the door closed, Tommy followed in his wake, sending a sideways glance at Suzie that made her shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"What has he said so far?" Neil asked by way of reply, causing Millie to frown with suspicion at his deliberate avoidance of answering Max's question.

"Not much, he said the van must have been stolen, but he knows we're not buying that. It won't take long for him to crack." Max's voice exuded confidence, a confidence that hadn't been there a minute or two before and which Millie knew was for the benefit of their colleagues. Max waited for Neil's response, inwardly unnerved by his suddenly altered demeanour. Somehow he seemed colder, more detached than he had been since returning to Sun Hill a few days before.

Neil kept his silence for a few seconds, his hands shoved firmly in his pockets, pondering how best to make his announcement without inviting debate. He wasn't interested in justifying his methods with Max. All he needed from him was to keep Millie quiet and out of the way. "I-" he stopped briefly, as Grace rounded the corner into the corridor towards the gathering. For a moment the sight of her distracted him but aware of four pairs of eyes all on him, expectantly waiting, he continued swiftly as she reached the group and took up position slightly behind Max. "Hammond has been an informant for me for years. Low key for most of the time, but since Suzie and I joined SOCA, he's become increasingly useful. He's provided us with information that has been crucial in securing several big convictions and while I understand that he is now implicated in this case, I've got a bigger picture to consider."

"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded Millie in horror. "That the lives of two women, innocent women, are expendable?"

"No, that's not what I mean. But if Hammond's part in it is small, then I have to weigh that up against what is in the public interest."

"You have to decide?" Millie's eyes flashed angrily, not caring about the difference in their rank and the respect that was expected. "Who the hell do you think you are? Who are you to judge-"

"Millie!" interrupted Max in a low voice, coming to his senses after a few moments of fully digesting what Neil was saying. He hated it, it made him feel sick to even consider, but he knew there was no alternative. This was all about politics and targets. Neil would call the shots and Hammond, once he had coughed, if he coughed, would walk away untainted. He tried to pull Millie closer but she easily shook herself free of his half-hearted attempt. "Millie, listen to me, the-"

"No! I won't listen!" she bit out through clenched teeth, finding that her anger from the previous night hadn't entirely dissipated and instead had become reinvigorated.

"Millie, we don't know for sure that he isn't telling the truth, that he had no idea-" began Suzie, trying hard for her usual disdain of such emotional reactions but the disappointment emanating from the man net to her sapped her resolve and she had no will to continue when Millie turned on her.

"Oh come on!" Millie scoffed derisively. "You only have to look at the man to know he's lying through his back teeth. And you," she stabbed a finger at Neil, "you knew about him but you didn't know who he was involved with? Or did you?" she paused, her eyes widening as her tumbled thoughts neared a frightening clarity. "Because if you did, that makes you responsible."

"Millie, that's enough, this isn't going to help," murmured Max, unable to bring himself to forcibly quieten her. Depending on the extent of Neil's relationship with Hammond, there was a chance she might not be so very far from the truth. He clenched his fists at the prospect.

"You could have stopped this from happening, couldn't you? Couldn't you?" she demanded.

Neil stared at Millie, momentarily surprised by her vehemence and the lustre that her heightened state brought to her face. He remembered her as being so quiet, so unassuming, compliant. But her outburst triggered a distant memory of her arguing with Max, years ago it had been. She had held her own then, and she was doing the same now. He briefly looked across at Grace, gaining some sustenance from her visible concern at Millie's apparently irrational behaviour.

"No," he started quietly, forcing everyone to strain to hear him, "I couldn't have prevented your mother's abduction. It's easy to make assumptions with hindsight-"

"Hindsight?" exclaimed Millie, colour flooding her cheeks. "From what you have said, Hammond has been in your pocket for years. You must have known who he was involved with, what he was doing, unless of course he's been playing you for fools!"

That was the breaking point. Up until now, Neil had been determined to stay detached above the melodrama and despite these circumstances, he wasn't prepared to be labelled as a fool, even if her heated words had rather resoundingly hit their target. He stiffened and set his jaw, refusing to back down in the face of Millie's overwhelming contempt and the quiet nagging of self doubt that seemed to be plaguing him.

"I'll take the interview," he announced, firmly indicating to Max that he was pulling rank and at least gaining some satisfaction from Max's impotent annoyance at the move. It emboldened him to go a step further. "Suzie, when you're ready-"

"Oh no," Max broke in. He couldn't stop Manson from taking the lead, he probably couldn't even insist the he join the interview himself, but he was entirely justified in having a member of his team by Manson's side. Just in case. Just to remind Manson what was really at stake. Max shot a glance at Tommy, who gave the merest nod in return, acknowledging the instruction. "I want one of the Sun Hill investigating team in there with you."

The silent communication between the two men however didn't go unnoticed as either of them might have hoped. "Fine," agreed Neil a little too easily, looking first at Tommy to one side and then back to Grace. Grace. Tommy was firmly his boss's man, that much was sure, but Grace? Well, her feelings about Max were clear, Neil mused. She'd follow his lead, she'd trust his line of questioning and leave well enough alone. All Manson needed from Hammond was information about the whereabouts of Sondra Brown and anything about Antonov that might lead to his location. What he didn't want was for Hammond to let slip on any of their other collaborations. "Okay then, Grace? Suzie, let her have the file. Let's get on with it."


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N - I don't usually do short chapters, but Feebee has been ever so concerned for Sondra that I feel obliged to set her mind at rest, or not, as the case may be ...**

-ooOoo-

Sondra smiled. A whispered purr of contentment escaped from her lips as she softened, feline-like, into the caress soothing her cheek, enjoying the warm sensation of skin against skin. It was as if she had been deprived of such sensory pleasure for days, weeks even. Another sigh, it felt wonderful. Consciousness pulled at her, but she resisted, these final moments of slumber too delicious to leave behind without a struggle. Yet the pull was too strong and reluctantly, she allowed herself to drift up and back into the world. Slowly, moment by moment Sondra became aware of her surroundings. The mustiness of the bed linen was first to register in her confused mind. The mattress also, it didn't feel right, her body seemed to ache from not being adequately supported. This bed couldn't be hers, where was she? The question hounded her as she searched for an answer she knew was within her reach but couldn't grasp. And then those fingers, they lacked the robust strength of her husband. Barrow boy hands, he described them. Can't take the East End out of the boy, he often said, sometimes in self-deprecating mitigation, sometimes with pride, sometimes with a degree of menace depending on who he was talking to. But while his hands may have given away Richard's origins, his brain and drive set him apart from those he had left behind in Bethnal Green. This hand, however, was lithe, the fingers slender and smooth, made for a man not made for manual or menial labour. Her eyes flickered but there was little but darkness, only the merest spots of light somewhere above her seemed to find a way in to the room, preventing her from being able to find a way out of this dream. Her breathing quickened, panic setting in. And then a voice, lightly accented.

"Hush, my darling. Hush"

Sondra's eyes flew open, staring upwards. Gradually she became accustomed to the specks of light illuminating the room, casting dark shadows. The inferiority of the mattress showed itself poorly, sagging submissively to one side beneath the weight of the possessor of that voice. She lay frozen. His name had been mentioned the day before, or the day before that, Sondra no longer knew what day it was, or indeed whether it was night or day. But she hadn't believed that he would really be here. He had been dead to her for so many years that it was impossible to truly believe that he could be alive, even less possible to think that he would be so close and the cause of such terror.

Sondra concentrated on her breathing, concentrated on not allowing the bile to rise from her stomach and into her mouth. He sighed and edged closer on the mattress, smoothing back the hair from her face, close enough that she could feel his breath on her skin. The scent of his cologne had taken over from the damp stench of the disgusting linen, a scent that took her back thirty years, unmistakeably his. Richard had worn something similar at the time, but in her care had evolved through the years. This man had not evolved, he was still part of that Autumn.

"Niko?" she finally whispered, hoarsely.

"Yes," he answered and she thought she detected some joy in her acknowledgement before he continued sorrowfully. "I am sorry for what you have been put through, my darling. I am sorry for what happened to the Fleischmann girl. That should not have happened. Unfortunately I left my associates to use their initiative and it was not as I would have wanted. They will be dealt with. Except Sergey of course. It would appear he has dealt with himself. I should have trusted my instinct with that one," he finished with a cold laugh that chilled her. He leant down and took her hand in his, she fought every impulse to recoil. "I waited so long for this, my darling Sondra. To feel you close to me, to hold your hand once again. Only this thought kept me alive for all those years of incarceration. Had I only thought of revenge I am sure I would not have lived to see this day." He raised her hand to his lips before bushing it against his smoothly shaven cheek and then back to his lips for a final feather-light kiss. The urge to claw at him was immense but Sondra knew she could not afford to anger him if she was to survive.

He replaced her hand by her side but did not let go. "I see that they have brought food to you, although," as he moved she heard the rustle of what she assumed to be another packet of stale sandwiches, "I would not allow my dogs to eat rubbish such as this. I will bring you something better, something that you will not be able to resist, I promise. I remember what you like!" He finished with what sounded like confident pride. "Try not to worry, I will look after you. Just as it should always have been." He rose and planted a kiss to her forehead, allowing her hand to remain at her side as his fingers ran the length of her arm. "I hope you will forgive me for leaving," he murmured apologetically, "but there is some business to which I must attend. I will not be long, and then ... and then we will begin again."

Sondra listened, still staring upwards, still holding back the urge to vomit, as he left the room. The door closed with a dull thud, a lock clicking into place from the outside, and once again she was alone. Rolling to her side, she pulled her knees tightly to her chest, more afraid than at any other time since this had all begun. While her abductors were anonymous monsters, somehow she felt that she had a chance, that a ransom would be demanded and paid. But knowing that the man who had orchestrated the ordeal was a man who had once professed to love her, to worship her but whom she had rejected and had now come back from the dead. What kind of man could he be? What kind of ransom would satisfy him? The answers were too terrifying to contemplate but impossible to ignore.


	35. Chapter 35

Sorry this has taken a while, but my new laptop and I are_ very slowly _getting to know each other …. With thanks to Feebee, Firebird & Shell.

-ooOoo-

"Grace?" his voice punched into the tense atmosphere.

"Oh! Right, er ... yes of course," she mumbled, nervously eying the stony expressions of Max and Millie to her left. Her heart beat a little faster, she wondered why he had chosen her. Of course they worked so well together, she told herself, that was all. A purely professional decision, he was hardly likely to choose Tommy, too much Max's man for Neil's liking she knew. Yet she couldn't stop feeling it was also because they could be so in tune with what the other was thinking. Hadn't that been proven years ago? But that was before he had disappeared without a word to SOCA. She swallowed hard, damping down sparks of romantic elation. This was about catching a killer, possibly the lynchpin of an organised crime syndicate, not her own personal wants and wishes. Suzie interrupted her thoughts, shoving the file at her. Grace took it, grimacing a little as she flipped open the cover to find a photograph of Carly Fleischmann, or rather her battered body. If Carly hadn't ever been exactly pretty before, she certainly wasn't now. Was this Manson's tactic, to go in hard and fast, sparing none of the gruesome details they had discovered thus far? Neil nodded a silent confirmation and she flipped the file shut once again.

Max and Tommy exchanged glances as Neil and Grace headed into the interview room and after Ben made his exit with evident relief, the door closed with a dull clunk.

"Right," Tommy drawled, shooting a scathing look at Suzie next to him, who attempted to square her shoulders defiantly. Her effort went ignored as Tommy immediately turned back to Max. "If I'm not needed here, I'll check on how our friend in St Hugh's is getting on. I'll let you know when he's ready to talk."

"Yeah, thanks," Max replied, aiming for an air of confident authority, as Tommy turned and strode briskly along the corridor. Suzie appeared to hesitate for a moment before following, finally catching up with him as he disappeared around the corner. Despite Max's best efforts, Manson had outmanoeuvred him by taking Grace into the interview room. On any other occasion that would sting, but this time it was less about pride and more about coping. At least if he was in that room, facing Hammond, he'd be doing something, dragging information out of him by any means necessary. He'd probably enjoy it. Even if it was Tommy, his proxy, he'd be happier. But Grace? She was so firmly in Manson's pocket, the two of them forever shooting meaningful glances at the other, there was no way she'd do anything but follow his lead. And the question remained, just how far was Manson prepared to push Hammond over this if his bigger picture was more important?

He turned to Millie, her expression bland, far too calm. "Don't you dare try to send me off for coffee," she murmured quietly, brushing past him and into the darkened observation room next to the interview room and with his head bowed, his mind on not only what might come from Hammond's lips but also Millie's reaction to it, he followed.

-oo-

"A solicitor? What do I want one of them for, Mr Manson?" Hammond sat back in his seat. His demeanour altered since he had realised that Mr Manson was to be looking after him. The smooth charm that came with his easy self-assurance oozed from every pore. Grace's eyes narrowed as he directed his attention towards her. "I've got nothing to hide."

"Hmm, now that's not entirely true, is it?" countered Neil.

"We know that a vehicle, registered to your company, was used to transport the body of Carly Fleischmann," Grace informed him calmly.

"I don't know anything about-"

"Let's end the pretence here shall we?" Neil cut in curtly, preventing Grace from continuing. Her brow furrowed slightly but otherwise she managed to keep her expression impenetrable. "I'm not interested in what your dealings are with Kiril Barsukov, I'm not interested in anything you might be involved in. All I want to do is find Sondra Brown before she ends up like this!" he whisked the file away from beneath Grace's fingers and spun it round to Charlie, opening it to show the photograph. "Like this, Charlie! You knew Carly, didn't you?" All colour drained from the older man's face as he stared down at the picture of the dead woman, his temporary ebullience once again deserting him. "This is what she looks like now and it is what Sondra Brown will look like if we don't find her quickly."

Charlie shook his head jerkily. "No, no he ... he won't ... not to her."

"He? He who?"

Charlie raised a shaky hand to his lips, as if to stop any further words from escaping.

"Who, Charlie? Nikolai Antonov? Is that who?" Neil stared hard at the man who refused to meet his eyes. "You know what happened to her before she died?" he continued sharply. "Her hair was hacked off and sent to her father. Then her fingers," Neil pulled out another picture, "also sent to her father. She was tortured, Charlie, then murdered. And you think it won't happen to Sondra?" The question hung in the air between them for a few seconds, watching as the horror sank into Hammond's mind. "Look, all we want is information," his voice softened to a more amiable tone. I'm prepared to accept that you have had no part in any of this but you've got to give me something to prove me right."

"Such as ...?"

"The whereabouts of Antonov would be a start."

"Look I-" he began, recoiling evasively.

"Start at the beginning, Charlie," ordered Neil briskly.

Hammond appeared to weigh up the options, twisting the cygnet ring on his finger nervously, his brow creased with thought. Grace watched the interaction between the two men and realised that she might just as well not be present. This was all about Neil and Charlie's private arrangements. It occurred to her that this was why she was in the room instead of Tommy, Neil wanted a silent partner. She swallowed away the bad taste it left in her mouth and did her best to believe in Neil's strategy.

"I didn't know it was him. Not until much later. It was Kiril who approached me at the casino one night, said we had a mutual friend in need of help and that he needed a local contact. I was curious, it was all like in a film, and you know I do love my films." Hammond chuckled and then stopped for a moment, aware that his hobby was irrelevant. "I got carried away I suppose," he admitted. "Anyway, Kiril said that our mutual friend had asked him to help settle some scores and take back what belonged to him. I didn't know it was Niko ... I thought he was dead."

"You knew Nikolai Antonov?"

"Yeah. Didn't you know that? I thought you did. Him, me, Georgie and Dickie. We all met at my first casino, there was a party every week, sometimes every night, back then. Niko and me were like brothers almost straightaway. We had so much fun, he was real geezer underneath all the Soviet shit. That wasn't him at all. He liked the high life too much for all that doom and gloom. Champagne, girls and lots of cash, that's what he was after. Trouble was, he got a bit too greedy for the cash. And as I told Mr Carter, greed is no good."

"What happened?"

"You know what happened! Georgie grassed him up! Said he had no choice, but there's always choices and he grassed up a mate and got him sent back to Russia. I never heard from him again ... not until ..."

"Barsukov?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"He said that Fleischmann owed our friend. Big. I suppose I liked the sound of that. Me and Georgie, well, I've never forgiven him for what he did. Kiril never said nothing about Dickie though! Me and Dickie lost touch, he went a bit too straight for me, too straight for Georgie really but them two were always like this," he held up two crossed fingers, "never understood why."

"Go on," Manson waved aside Hammond's musings.

"So, I told Kiril how to get in with Georgie, what weaknesses to exploit. Greed and vanity mainly. It didn't take long. He was in almost immediately and then I didn't hear anything from Kiril until-" he stopped, suddenly pensive for a moment. "Until two days ago when I heard that Carly had gone missing. I called him and asked if he was involved. I threatened to come to you when he wouldn't tell me anything. That's when he finally told me who he was working for. I couldn't let Niko down, not again. I though Georgie deserved a scare and that Carly, well she always was a hard girl. Was."

"So, what? Did Barsukov ask for the van?"

"I didn't know what he was going to do with it," pleaded Hammond passionately. "I didn't know he was going to take Sondra. If I'd known ..."

"Well, that doesn't really matter now, does it?" stated Neil so matter-of-factly that Grace flinched. There was hardness in his voice that she didn't recognise.

"He won't hurt her! He loved her and she cared about him, I know she did. But she loved Dickie more. Niko understood that. He wished her well."

Neil stayed silent, letting Hammond feel the full weight of what he had become complicit in. The seconds stretched out, the silence becoming almost unbearable for Grace, so far there had been no opportunity for her to make any contribution but now was her chance. "So you've given us enough to bring in Barsukov-"

"You won't find him," shot back Charlie.

"What do you mean?" Neil asked harshly.

"He was leaving London late last night, said he'd completed the job and was heading home." Neil glared at Charlie. "I know," Charlie shook his head, "I can't tell you how much I regret all this."

"Where's Antonov?" demanded Neil angrily, his patience now exhausted and his pride badly dented.

"I don't know, I really don't know." Panic now entered Hammond's voice, sweat breaking out across is forehead. "But last time I spoke to Kiril he did say Niko would be in touch and as soon as he does-"

"I'd better be the first person you tell, or so help me, Charlie I'll cut you loose and leave you to fend for yourself."

"I will! I promise."

"Good. Because you wouldn't want certain people to find out you've been talking to me, would you?"

-oo-

"Nothing," she muttered, more to herself than Max. He didn't need to be told what was blatantly obvious. "He hasn't given us a bloody thing. "Not Antonov. Not even Barsukov." Millie's voice was hushed, each word spoken only to make sense of the chaos in her head that she would rather deny. She hadn't realised until this point just how much hope and faith she had invested in Manson gaining something from this interview, despite her disgust for him. His failure only intensified her loathing. "What's he here for?" she demanded as she spun to face Max, suddenly suffused with a violent energy that almost knocked him back a step and fixing him with a wide-eyed stare, no less penetrating for the darkness of the room. "Why, Max?"

Max found he had no answer to either satisfy or succour.

"What has he done since her got here, except make a few pointless suggestions and drink tea with Meadows?" her hysteria was rising, the light from the room beyond catching her hair and lighting her eyes as she jerked her head back towards the subject of her anger. "He's only interested in Georgie, isn't he? He couldn't give a shit about Mum or Carly. It's all about his bigger picture," she finished sarcastically.

"Millie, that's not true," but even Max could put little belief in his defence of the superior officer.

"Isn't it? He was already in contact with Hammond before this started. Was Manson talking to you as well?"

"No!" Max retorted forcefully, then rubbed his forehead wearily. "But I'm getting the feeling that I've been manipulated. I didn't know Hammond was on the payroll," he admitted regretfully. "It wouldn't surprise me if Manson knew I was talking to him about Georgie." Max looked away, tutting in disgust at how pleased he had been in recruiting Hammond. Angry to have been such an easy pawn in Manson's game. "If only I'd figured that out, I might … I might have found the connection between Hammond and Barsukov and if I got that then I might have stopped …" he stopped, aware that it was only useless self-pity talking.

Millie felt her own fury subside in the face of Max's admission. "No, no you wouldn't. Antonov has been too far ahead of us from the beginning." They were in this together, there was no longer any doubt in her mind about that. She reached up to his cheek, smoothing her fingertips down and along his jaw. Her touch brought his gaze back to her and without a sound he gently pulled her forward to rest against him, her cheek against his shoulder and pressing his lips to her hair. They both watched as in the room beyond Neil and Grace rose from their chairs, having only been successful in filling in some of the blanks in the story so far, their expressions acutely displaying their own frustrations at having achieved so little. Millie took particular notice of Grace, having little concern for Manson. It was clear in her mind that his sole reason for returning to Sun Hill was to cynically gain another feather in his cap at the expense of her family. No, it was Grace who seemed most frustrated, her expression was tightly held together, her shoulders tense. She'd been sidelined in the interview, played nothing more than the role of silent sidekick and for a woman of Grace's intellect, it could only be humiliating. Yet as they left the room, Manson changed tack, gallantly holding the door open for Grace to go first, offering a nod of appreciation, perhaps as a reward for her compliance. It made Millie feel sick, even more so when Grace appeared to gratefully lap it up, unaware that as soon as she passed him, Manson turned back to Hammond, who seemed to accept the same gesture with similar gratitude.

However, her thoughts on the scene in front of her were interrupted when the door flew open, instantly threatening the small haven of safety they had created.

"Guv?" called Tommy into the darkness. "Our Russian is awake, not quite ready to talk, but should be soon.

Millie's phone rang as Tommy took a few steps into the room. Pulling the phone from her back pocket she frowned at the name of the screen, quickly angling it away from Max's view, although he was now entirely focussed on what Tommy had to say. She pulled away, giving him the opportunity to meet Tommy halfway, no doubt both wanted to take the opportunity of Manson being occupied elsewhere.

"Hello," she spoke quietly, "just a moment."

Max looked after her as she scurried past Tommy and out into the light of the corridor beyond. His instinct was to follow, to not let her out of his sight. But he needed to talk to Tommy and after all, she was safe within the walls of Sun Hill, the only danger coming from loose tongues. He let her go, certain that it wouldn't take long before he caught up with her.


	36. Chapter 36

_A/N Oh dear, another apology for slowness in updating. Real life has such an annoying habit of getting in the way …_

-ooOoo-

Grace turned back to Neil as the door closed behind them with a clunk for the second time. She tried to catch his eye but his mind was already on his phone, appearing to read a message, an amusing one judging by his expression. Jake, she guessed. They seemed to have been trading text messages all day. At the beginning she found it endearing, the devotion they shared wouldn't fail to touch even the hardest of hearts, but slowly as the day wore on she became irritated, wishing he would pay a little more notice of the other players in his life. She wondered if this was what Suzie had to put up with every day, wondered if it was the hope of receiving the crumbs of his affection that had kept her close to him over the years. Perhaps that was the reason for Suzie's apparent defection to Tommy's side.

Standing, waiting for him to return to the small matter of an interview that had seemed to promise so much at the outset but yield nothing, it played on Grace's mind that maybe Hammond might have been persuaded to open up a little more, or at least could have been pushed harder. Instead, all that Neil seemed to do was give Hammond a sound warning to only talk to him. It nagged at her that perhaps Neil wanted to carefully filter anything that Hammond might have to say, that this abduction wasn't at the top of his priority list. The bad taste returned to her mouth and the need to talk it away, to be convinced otherwise, was overwhelming. But yet she waited, unable to bring herself to interrupt whatever it was that was so diverting. Behind him, Millie emerged from the observation room, furtively looking down the corridor towards them and briefly stared directly at Grace before she turned abruptly to dart away out of sight without so much as a flicker of acknowledgement. Grace frowned. During the course of the interview, she had become resigned to Millie's inevitable dissatisfaction and likely anger but somehow Millie's odd behaviour was even more disturbing.

As Grace stared down the corridor to where only Millie's echoing footsteps indicated that she had been there at all, Neil shoved the phone back into his pocket. He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising with the effort, once again gaining her full attention. "So, I guess we'd better catch up with Max. Figure out where we go from here."

Grace gave him a little grimace. "Max isn't going to be happy. And as for Millie-"

"We did the best we could," he interrupted, a little too briskly she thought uneasily. "Tell you what, Grace, you track them down and I'll join you in CID in a few minutes. I need to make a call."

-oo-

Tommy backed up to the door of the observation room and pushed it shut, sealing them from those with suspicious agendas and ulterior motives. The only light came from the room next door. Now no more than a dormant stage on which the latest act had come to a frustrating end.

"I take it that didn't go well?"

Max rubbed at his forehead. "You could say that. Hammond had nothing to say that helps us."

"Do you believe him?"

Max sighed in resignation. "As much as I'd like to think otherwise, yeah. Yeah, I do believe him."

"How did Millie take it?" Max stared back in silent reply. "That well, eh?" continued Tommy. "So," he went on, "the Russian is conscious. You want to head over to St Hugh's with me?"

"Fallen out with Suzie, have you?" answered Max with raised eyebrows, grateful for the slightest distraction that the Tommy-Suzie counter-romance gave him.

It was Tommy's turn to grimace. "Something like that." he muttered. "Not sure that I'm going to be able to stay civil with her at the moment."

"Because she kept quiet about what she knew about Hammond or because she didn't know enough?"

"Ah! I'm not sure," Tommy replied with unusual frankness. "Perhaps I've a little wounded pride."

"Well, either way, I need to stay here. So I suggest you pull it together enough to get something out of … what's his name?"

"Beloi. Petr Beloi."

"Beloi," Max mulled the name over for a few moments, hoping that it would mean something to him. But of course he was grasping at straws. "Do what you can, Tommy, although," he looked back to Hammond still in his chair with deepening pessimism, "I'm beginning to believe that no one is going to talk about Antonov."

"Because they're too scared?"

"Yeah, and because he's always a step ahead of us. Austin knew nothing, Barsukov's left the country and Hammond, well who knows what he's hiding."

Tommy took a step back to open the door. "Perhaps I should take Suzie to interview Beloi?"

"Why's that?"

"Well, she's the only person I think might be scarier than Antonov. No offence, Guv," Tommy finished kindly.

"None taken," Max smiled wryly as together they walked back out into the light of the corridor. "So, she's got you running scared then? Trust me, it's a slippery slope, a slippery slope ..."

-oo-

"Yes, Georgie. I can talk now."

"He's rung."

"Who?" Millie's heart beater faster, hoping _he_ would be Antonov. Hoping that_ he_ wouldn't.

"Niko. Nikolai Antonov." Millie swallowed hard and rested a hand against the cold wall in an effort to stem the dizziness that suddenly threatened. "He wants to see me."

"What about Mum? Did he say anything about Mum?" Desperation filled her demand.

Georgie hesitated, fuelling her dread. "Yeah, he's got her. Said he was looking after her."

Like he looked after Carly? Millie wanted to ask, but she didn't dare. After the pointless interview with Hammond, this was all they had, the only way in was through Georgie and reference to his dead daughter was hardly likely to be useful. Instead, she kept it coolly business-like. After all, it was impossible to live with Max Carter and not pick up some of his traits. "Right. So … so what did he say?"

"I told you, he wants to see me."

"Where? When?"

"In the disused brewery, off Harpsden Road. Do you know it?"

Another derelict building. Another body? "Yeah. Yeah I know it. Why does he want to see you?"

"Says he wants to talk."

"About what?" Georgie hesitated again. "Okay, stay where you are. I'll get Max and-"

"No!" exclaimed Georgie violently. "No, you can't do that!"

"What-"

"No police. He said no police!"

"Georgie, you can't meet him on your own! He's … he's-" Millie floundered.

"I know what he's done. And I know it is my fault! I'm responsible for this, you said it yourself!" Georgie's voice cracked and Millie knew that tears would be falling onto his cheeks. "I've got to do this," he pleaded. "If there's any chance I can …" he trailed off and Millie knew exactly what he meant. "It's me he wants and I … without Carly …"

"I'm coming with you. I'll meet you there. Don't go in, you wait for me."

"No!"

"He's got Mum and I want her back," Millie spat out. "Why have you called me? What did you expect me to do? Let you go on your own so that you can get yourself and Mum killed as well?"

"I don't want you hurt, Millie. I'm … I'm sorry about what I said before, I didn't mean it. You know I didn't mean it."

"I know, I know," she tried to sound soothing, but a cold determination was talking hold once again. "Are you still at home?"

"No, I managed to get out while your mate was in the loo."

"Right," Millie inhaled deeply and squared her shoulders. "I'll meet you there in," she checked her watch, "fifteen minutes should do it."

"Millie, please, no," he begged forlornly.

"I'm not backing down, Georgie, this isn't just about you anymore."

Millie disconnected the call and thought on the dilemma for a moment. Of course she should tell Max. Of course it was suicidal to go after Georgie alone. And, her car was at home, which made things trickier, she couldn't exactly ask Max for his keys on the premise of nipping out for a magazine from the supermarket up the road. But if she did tell Max that Georgie was on his way to meet Antonov, he would insist on half the station, CO19 and quite possibly the dog unit being there as well. She slumped against the wall struggling against a crushing sense of despondency, but it lasted only a few moments before she pushed back with resurgent tenacity and propelled herself forward in the direction of Max's office. There were no other options on the table right now, she had no choice. There was no way she could take the risk that turning up mob-handed would force Antonov into harming her mother.

The corridors were eerily silent as she quickly made her way into the domain of CID and studiously avoided the glances of the few officers at their desks. She knew exactly where he kept his spare car keys, at the back of the second drawer down on the left hand side of his desk. Quietly Millie slipped into his office. The room was still bare except for the standard issue Met Police furniture, despite his occupation of it for a couple of years. Personal effects were kept to the minimum, no sign that he had any sort of life outside the station. It might have bugged her once upon a time, but she'd become accustomed to it over the years. It was just the way he was and she found it strangely endearing, even comforting that he so jealously guarded their private life. Rounding the desk, she reached into the back of the drawer, her fingers finding not only the keys but also brushing against a slim leather wallet. She pulled it out, recognising it as a gift from her mother the previous Christmas. Trembling slightly at the memory and in expectation of what she would find inside, Millie opened the wallet. A photograph of two people smiled back at her, a newly engaged couple, their joy evidence of such happiness just a few days before. It all seemed a lifetime ago, before mistrust and tragedy had entered their lives to test them to the limit. She snapped the wallet shut and replaced it reverentially in the drawer before her resolve weakened, clutching the keys tightly in her fist.

-oo-

Grace could have sworn that it was Millie's hair disappearing around the corner and out towards the yard as she made her way up the stairs but she carried on, reaching the top before Max called out to her.

"Grace? Have you seen Millie anywhere?"

"Er, I thought I saw her head that way," she gestured in the direction of the exit to the yard at the rear of the station. "Not sure though."

Max scowled, irritated by Grace's inability to give him the answer he wanted. Irritated that he'd lost sight of Millie and certain that she was in a fragile state of mind. And worried. Suddenly very worried. He turned on his heel and sprinted after her, snapping at loitering PCSOs and a recently returned team of air-conditioning engineers in his path. By the time he burst through the door at the top of the ramp, she was already speeding out of the yard in his car.


	37. Chapter 37

**With thanks to all readers, especially Firebird & Feebee ...**

"Shit, what…?" Max stood frozen to the spot, watching his own car speed erratically towards the open gates, then come to an abrupt standstill as two minibuses attempted to enter, hampered by Millie taking up the middle of the exit. Seeing his chance, he set off quickly down the ramp but only managing to take a few steps when his phone rang, slowing his momentum. He answered automatically, without checking the screen. "Carter!" he barked, impatient at the interruption.

"Guv? It's Roger."

The older man's tone, usually so smoothly calm, was unusually agitated. It was the last thing Max needed to have to deal with right now. For a split second he considered whether to tell Roger to call Manson, whatever it was. But something made him check his gut reaction and hear the man out, providing he was quick about it. "Yeah, what is it?"

"Fleischmann has left the house."

"What?" exclaimed Max, struggling to divide his concentration on the call with reaching Millie before she managed to negotiate a way round the minibuses. His gearbox crunched painfully and the car shot back a couple of feet to give the first obstructing vehicle space to inch forward and create some space for Millie to escape before the second came in. He watched helplessly as she manoeuvred the car between them seemingly without consideration for either paint or bodywork.

"I er, had to … well, you know, and while I was out of the room he must have taken off. I'm sorry."

Max swore inwardly, but more at the situation he had to deal with than Roger's confession. Recrimination could come later. Somewhere behind him, Stevie's distinct cackle fought for his already fractured attention and he tried to shrug off the unwelcome intervention, tried to focus on what was important. Millie was taking off in a big hurry, or at least was trying to, after taking a clandestine phone call and Georgie had done a similarly devious disappearing act. If the two were linked … He swore again, this time audibly, imagining the various reasons, none of them good. A set of tryes screeched, the wheels spinning in frustrating empathy with the driver as Millie finally was given enough space to flee the yard. Stevie finally drew level, still giggling at something Terry next to her must have said or done, prompting Max to hang up on Roger with neither explanation nor goodbye. "Give me your keys," he snapped at Stevie, instantly silencing her laughter and earning himself a questioning stare from Terry, which Max chose to ignore.

"Eh? Wha…?" Stevie began, surprised.

He didn't wait for her to finish and snatched them out of her hovering hand without any attempt to justify his curt demand, leaving Stevie and Terry to watch with bewilderment as he raced towards the blue Vauxhall.

"Now, even for Max, that's not normal," murmured Terry while Max pulled open the car door and threw himself inside.

"Wasn't that Millie in his car?" queried Stevie as Max pulled out of the parking space aggressively and sped out of the yard. "What the hell is going on?"

-oo-

The same thought had also occurred to Millie, duelling for supremacy with concern fear for her mother's safety. Having dealt with the minibus, she now found herself caught at temporary lights no more than a hundred yards from the station. Three men in high visibility jackets stood staring blankly down a hole, surrounded by flimsy safety barricades. Poorly planned roadworks. According to Max, it was the third time in as many months that this particular stretch had been dug up. Workmen standing around ineptly - Max's most hated source of irritation, or one of them anyway, and guaranteed to make him fly into a rage during which Millie would find herself struggling to supress her giggles when his irascibility reached comedic proportions. Not every time though. Sometimes, and lately more often, when her mind was burdened with mounting worry and exhaustion of the job, because in Max's less than helpful assessment she got too involved, his explosive outburst would bring out the worst in her, not unlike the night before, and she would refuse to allow him the last word. Then he would have to fall into silence for fear of making everything worse. Of course later he'd make amends, soothing away with words and deeds of intimacy the anxiety which was increasingly difficult for either to ignore.

Millie thought on as the lights remained stubbornly red despite the inactivity ahead of her, recalling the sacrifice that he had offered on the bathroom floor, wondering how serious was that offer and whether he could really go through with it. One of the men, his trousers slug low around his sunburn streaked fleshy hips, looked up and catching her eye as she glared at the scene, he winked lasciviously. She felt her top lip curl involuntarily in disgust and quickly shifted her attention back to the traffic lights, willing them to change colour so that she could just get on with her journey. But the lights were not on her side and her thoughts turned to the immediate matter in hand. Just what the hell did she think she was doing? Arranging to meet Georgie as he in turn had arranged to meet a kidnapper and murderer. Somehow, back in the safety of the station, she had believed herself invincible; adrenaline fuelled her determination to take charge when no one else had an answer. This had seemed no less frightening than her own abduction or indeed any of the other life-threatening situations she had found herself in over the years. Yet, sitting here gripping the steering wheel so that she didn't notice her trembling hands and waiting obediently for the lights to change, she felt exposed, her former assurance ebbing from her veins.

Finally the lights did change. With relief she carefully put the car into gear and pulled away, grateful also to be free of the leering glances of now all three workshy labourers. The meeting point was on the other side of Canley. With lights and sirens blazing it might have taken less than ten minutes, but Millie carefully obeyed the rules of the road, forcing herself to drive sensibly even though it would double the time of her journey. It wasn't a case of delay tactics, more that her natural sobriety now came to the fore and that careless driving would only jeopardise her chances of getting to Georgie before Antonov got to him.

-oo-

The short distance to St Hugh's was covered surprisingly quickly, this stretch of Canley for once unblighted by road works. While it was beneficial in terms of getting to their destination quickly, it gave Suzie limited opportunity to figure out how to deal with Tommy's sullen behaviour. "This is ridiculous," she muttered finally as they pulled into the car park.

"Yup."

Suzie blinked, confused by his monosyllabic reply for a moment. "No, I mean you are being ridiculous."

"And how have you come to that conclusion?"

"You're not talking to me! It's childish."

"Yes, I am."

"Not properly," her voice took on a whining tone borne out of exasperation with a man who clearly felt wronged but equally clearly should know better.

"Now who sounds childish?" Instantly he felt bad for the retort, especially as she was right. He was doing his best to avoid any conversation. "You and Manson held out on us. You held out on me," he finished quietly glancing quickly to see Suzie chewing her lower lip. "If we'd known about the Hammond link sooner, we might have prevented this. Some of it anyway."

Suzie knew he was referring to Sondra's abduction. It occurred to her that nobody seemed to have been very affected by Carly's demise, with the exception of her father, but it was different with Sondra. The pain of her disappearance was felt so acutely by Max and Millie that it was difficult to treat this woman as just another case in a wider operation, as no more than a piece of the jigsaw that she and Neil had spent the last couple of years putting together. It made it personal for everybody at Sun Hill, and she didn't do personal, especially if it meant everything she and Neil had been working towards would come apart at the seams and take them back to square one. At least she hadn't though she did personal. And, it was made all the more testing that Tommy, whom she had so terrifyingly fallen for, was on the other side, looking out for what passed for a family to him. A dysfunctional, openly suspicious family, but that was what he had been brought up on after all. It was no surprise that he didn't know any better, Suzie mused, before realising that the same theory could easily be applied to her. She looked at him, catching his eye for a moment before he turned back to the road. He was looking out for his little tribe just as she had been doing for Neil for years. She felt like a fraud, for so long telling herself that it was enough, that Neil needed her, even in the light of recent developments in his life which left her hanging on by mere threads.

"We didn't know about Hammond." Tommy snorted his derision at her denial. "We didn't!" she exclaimed emphatically, hurt that he could think so little of her. "I didn't."

The hurt came out in her voice and Tommy found it hard not to relent. "Did Manson?" Suzie didn't reply, whether because she didn't know, or didn't want to admit, he couldn't be sure. Her hesitation troubled him, this deep set loyalty that she didn't seem to know how to operate without. Except last night when wine and Baileys had loosened the ties with her boss. She was operating pretty well until that second bottle. In the silence between them, compassion gradually seeped in, winning the battle over the disappointment that had initially taken hold. "Ah, I don't suppose it makes much difference now," he murmured, albeit grudgingly.

"It does to me. At least, it matters to me what you think. I know it's only been a few days but ... it does ..." she paused for a moment, summoning up up every ounce of her confidence to carry on, "and I think it does to you as well."

Tommy's breath hitched for a moment at her unexpected honesty. And bravery. She wasn't to know whether he would rebuff her, laugh at her, and continue with his punishing rejection of her entreaty. It took a bloody strong woman to speak her mind like that, to take the risk. "Okay. Okay. Truce?" he offered softly.

She nodded, relieved to have gone some way to recovering lost ground with this infuriating man, even if he hadn't quite gone so far as to confirm that believed her, let alone that he felt the same way. "So," she took a deep breath, letting that one go for now, "what's your plan? With this guy?"

"Haven't actually got one," he grinned, maddeningly in Suzie's opinion. There was something in those twinkling blue eyes which made her instantly, willingly, blind to his many failings. It was no good, she discovered, caution had long been thrown to the wind. "I was kind of hoping you might pull something out of the bag. Perhaps you could use some of your intelligence. Your SOCA intelligence, that is," he clarified slowly. The flirtation was back on. "You know, give him a scare, threaten deportation or to drop him in it with the mob. That sort of thing. It's what you're good at."

Suzie bristled defensively. But it was only for show, feeling secretly pleased to be back to where they had been at the beginning of the day. "I'm not some sort of ignorant thug you know."

"Did I say that?" responded Tommy innocently. "I'd never say anything like that. I wouldn't dare."


	38. Chapter 38

**Hmmm ... there I was, struggling to get to 1500 words and then it wouldn't end ... apologies for being slow... **

-ooOoo-

At least the London Borough of Canley's on-going obsession with digging up the roads had gone in his favour for once he mused, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He'd have struggled to have caught up with her otherwise. Yet, after her initial burst of speed, Max was beginning to think he might have misread the entire situation and he should in fact be back at Sun Hill cranking up the search for Sondra, and now Fleischmann. "Jesus!" he muttered in frustration. Perhaps she wasn't going anywhere special. She certainly wasn't going anywhere in a hurry. He'd been tailing her for over ten minutes now and not once had she come close to breaking the thirty speed limit, not even one amber light chanced. As she turned off the main road into a quiet side street, intermittently lined with bleached and barren looking office buildings and dormant light industrial depots, it was tempting to end this ludicrously slow chase by pulling out and bringing her to a forced halt. But he didn't. He kept his distance, half hoping that she wouldn't recognise the car behind her, half hoping that she would. If she was heading out to meet Georgie, he liked to think that she might have the sense to realise that she was being followed. As they sedately continued, it gave Max time to think, time to conclude he didn't want to pull her over. It was her decision, her choice and as insane as it sounded to him, he trusted her. Not quite enough to let her go alone though, that was unthinkable, but definitely enough to believe in her instinct.

His pulse raced as Millie slowed to a crawl then suddenly turned to the right and out of his sight through open metal gates. He accelerated rapidly, reaching the point of her disappearance within seconds to find that she was still driving slowly towards the abandoned brewery. It was as if she was hunting for a space in a busy car park, even though there were only two other vehicles on the disused site, one of them being Georgie's gold Lexus. The driver's door was flung open indicating that he was already inside the building. The expanse of concrete showed its neglect, grass and weeds flourishing in the cracks. The second derelict site of the day. Max grimly wondered what they would find in this one.

Absorbed in her concentration on the road ahead, Millie didn't notice the blue Vauxhall until it appeared in her wing mirror and slowly drew alongside. For a moment her heart beat wildly with fear, her eyes flitting between the mirror and the building in front of her. What if this was one of the kidnappers? What had she been thinking? Had they been following her all the way from Sun Hill, camouflaged by the other cars on the road? Perhaps this was a trap. Maybe Georgie had been forced to call her. Panic mounted. It was insane to think that she would be able to reason with these people, with this man. Antonov. Her hands, which had stopped shaking a few minutes earlier, started to tremble again. She gripped the steering wheel but the tactic was less successful as her body began to shudder, her breathing quickening. Then it stopped, just for a moment, as she peered a little closer at the mirror, watching the car draw level. Fury replaced fear. How dare he! How fucking dare he do this! The memory of his attitude the night before flared, igniting her renewed anger at his controlling attitude.

Despite what he considered to be his best efforts, frustration took precedence over patience when in a spurt of speed, Max pulled ahead of Millie and brought her to an abrupt halt, only just managing to avoid colliding with his own car. From inside his car Millie's rage was obvious, her eyes instantly narrowing after an initial moment of surprise, her jaw tightly clenched. It was probably fortunate for Max that the seatbelt bore the brunt of her anger. The car door had flown open but she was trapped for several seconds, struggling with the release catch as her fingers fumbled with a confusing mixture of nerves and anger. Eventually however, she managed to free herself of the belt and spring from the car, beginning to make for the building ahead of them. But in the time it had taken for her to get out of the car, Max was already looming.

"What the hell-" she started but Max cut her off and ended the question for her.

"Are you doing?" He grabbed hold of her arm preventing her from escape, his own irritation boiling over in defensive response.

"You've been following me!"

"Of course I've been following you!" he hissed. "You race out of the station with no word, no explanation and you think that I won't notice? That I won't want to know where you're going? Just out of interest, just when did you realise that I was tailing you? I could have been one of Antonov's people for all you knew."

With a flush of embarrassment in her cheeks, Millie chose to ignore his last question, unwilling to acknowledge that she really hadn't been vigilant. Instead she pounced on his other questions. "You can't help it, can you?" Max's lips parted to speak but she cut him off. "Control, it's all about control with you, isn't it? You can't bear-"

This time Max refused to be silenced, refused to let her misinterpret his intentions. "To let you get hurt! What I can't bear is to let you get hurt by going into something that you can't handle, not on your own anyway." She wavered, just a little, in the face of his earnestness and he took the opportunity to press home his case for the defence. "I figured out that you were planning to meet Georgie, I know he gave Roger the slip and left his house. I'm right, aren't I? It was him who rang you."

Millie rubbed at her temple and grimaced, squeezing her tired eyes shut for a moment. His grip on her arm relaxed. It irked that she should feel relieved that he had found her, but there it was. She did. And, more importantly, this probably wasn't the best time to resurrect this particular argument. "He said that Antonov had made contact-"

Just then a noise, the sound of something heavy scraping across a hard floor, came from the otherwise deserted looking building. It was enough to bring their spat into perspective. "Quick," Max ordered and pulled Millie across the yard into the relative safety of what appeared to be one of the entrances to the building, struggling to avoid tripping over the debris littering the floor and blocking the doors from opening. Satisfied that they were hidden well enough, Max peered round the corner. A short but heavy set man with a gun proudly displayed in a holster under his arm strutted from a door further along the building, heading straight towards the two cars. Max cursed himself for not thinking ahead enough to have hidden them from view.

"He'll find us!" Millie whispered hoarsely over his shoulder. "We shouldn't have left the cars there," she went on, failing to even attempt to hide the accusatory note in her voice.

Max pursed his lips. "I know that," he mumbled, trying hard not to rise to the bait and remind her of whose stupid idea this was in the first place. He shuffled back slightly, his feet hampered by something solid on the ground. He tried to kick it away but it was too heavy. Looking down, he saw an ancient fire extinguisher, so old that its once red paint was barely discernable. The footsteps drew nearer as a mobile phone burst into life. For a moment, Max and Millie held their breath, both praying that the sound did not come from them but then a deep, tobacco-damaged voice exclaimed a gruff greeting in what they assumed to be Russian. Millie's hand rested on Max's shoulder, her body pressed into him as together they exhaled with relief. But the relief lasted only a moment as they realised that then man was still closing in on them. Max's feet nudged awkwardly at the extinguisher again, this time it rocked a little giving him an idea. Silently he crouched down and slid his hands around the cylinder heaving it into his arms and pulling himself upright once again. The gruff voice drew ever closer. Millie instinctively backed against the wall and into the shadows. Max followed suit, somewhere among the tension he felt the tentacles of warmth that they were working in complete synchronicity. He glanced over his shoulder and caught her eye. The interruption of their fragile truce from the night before seemed to be over and once again they were allies.

The voice was dangerously close to them now. To Max's terror Millie's features hardened as the cogs in her mind seemed to turn, her gaze shifted beyond him towards the sound of that voice. Somehow he knew what she was going to do but was powerless to prevent her, the object in his hands making restraint impossible without drawing attention to their hiding place. Millie edged past decisively and out into the light. Max understood instinctively what she planned, admiring her bravery and fearing her foolishness in equal measure.

"Excuse me! I wonder if you can help me?" she trilled breathlessly, jogging a few paces to where the man was standing.

Max pondered for a moment whether she had picked up the vulnerable female act from Jessa Bennett, in another place he might have found it strangely enticing, but right now it only made his blood race with anxiety. He tightened his grip on the extinguisher, its weight becoming familiar in his hands, and stepped forward smoothly as she held the other man's attention, his back now turned to Max.

"Eh?" grunted the man in response, phone still pressed to his ear. He muttered something quietly into the handset. "Who are you?"

"Oh, well I'm lost. I'm looking for-"

But Millie didn't get as far as revealing who she was searching for. With all the force he could muster, Max stepped forward again, out of the dark shadow and brought the extinguisher down on to the back of the henchman's head. Displaying surprising grace for such a stout man, he slumped to the ground, seemingly lifeless.

"Cuffs!" demanded Max curtly, doing his best to pull the body back towards the doorway and out of sight. He deliberately stamped on the still speaking mobile phone, rendering it impotent.

"No! I mean, I haven't any with me."

"In the glove box, Millie. Check in the glove box. Quick!" he instructed, dropping down to kneel on the unconscious man, removing the gun and roughly pulling limp arms behind his back.

Millie hesitated for a moment, comprehending the scene in front of her but before Max could repeat his command she ran back to the car and within a few seconds returned with the cuffs, handing them down to him. "We need to hide him," she stated, looking around and concurring that their own hiding place would be the best option. Working together, they heaved the corpulent body into the doorway, and concealing his presence behind discarded timber boarding and an old bin.

"There," exhaled Max in satisfaction while ignoring the twinge in his back. He pressed down a dirty piece of cardboard box onto the man's head with perhaps more aggression than was necessary by way of retaliation for his pain. With the immediate danger over, Max picked up the gun from the ground and slid it into the waistband of his jeans.

Millie watched, her heart beating erractically. Providing a diversion for Max to deal with the threat had been surprisingly easy, she had simply blocked out all thought of risk for the moments that it was necessary and allowed adrenaline to take over. "What are you doing?" she asked as he reached into his pocket for his phone.

"I'm going to call for back-up."

"You can't! Georgie said-"

"Millie, think about it. You want to go in there, right?"

"Yes."

"I understand that. I don't like it, but I do understand. So, if we do, then we need to have someone out here to get us out. This," he pulled the gun from behind his back to illustrate his point, "might not be enough."

"But we can't hang about waiting for them to turn up," she panicked. "I'm not going to wait."

Max set his jaw firmly at her determination to entirely disregard the rules of safety although he hadn't really expected any other reaction from her. Without breaking eye contact, he hit speed dial. "Tommy? It's Max. I'm at the old brewery yard on Harpsden Road with Millie ... yeah, she's okay. We think Fleischmann might be inside. With Antonov. Possibly Sondra Brown as well…. Yeah, I know. Look, we need a Trojan unit here, tell them to keep it quiet though, I don't know what we're dealing with yet." Millie watched keenly and his lips contorted into a small smile and a curt laugh escaped. "Yeah, alright, I'll try not to … oh, you'd better let Manson know, he'll want to be in on this …thanks." Max disconnected the call and after switching it to silent, shoved it back into his pocket. He eyed her beadily. "You stay with me and do what I say." Millie opened her mouth to argue. "No! You've got to trust me on this. I want to get Sondra back as much as you do. Please Millie, trust me."

Millie nodded mutely, deciding it was by far the easier option to give way. Silently she followed him as he tracked along the side of the building to another doorway further up the building, from where the fat man had emerged only minutes earlier. He turned back for a moment, taking some comfort from her grimly sober expression that she wasn't feeling quite so gung-ho any more.

-oo-

Taking refuge behind a pile of pallets, the scene inside the building shook Millie. Georgie stood, a solitary figure in the centre of a cavernous space, staring blankly around him. Somehow it felt like an execution in the making.

"I see the years have been kind to you, Georgie." An accented voice cut into the silence. Georgie's head jerked towards where it came from, in the far corner of the cellar. "Thirty years, or is it thirty one?"

"Where's Sondra?" Georgie demanded sharply.

"She's perfectly safe. I would never do anything to harm Sondra. You know that." The voice was chillingly cool. Georgie's however was acutely distressed.

"How do I know that? After what you did to my girl-"

"That was regrettable, I admit. Although, you must also admit that you played your part, you are not entirely blameless."

"Bastard! You murdered my daughter!" The childless father howled into the barren room, his pain reverberating against every surface.

"And you took away my life!" the faceless voice cried back with equal pain before regaining its former composure. "All those years, Georgie, sixteen years in Siberia, while you lived in comfort and luxury with your family and friends. Living the life that I should have had. The life I was going to have with Sondra. So you have lost your child? A child that I should also have had."

"I had no choice. I did what I had to. You would have done the same, to protect the people you loved."

The voice chuckled coldly. "I thought I was one of those people. Remember the old days, Gerogie. The old days. I used to think about them all the time. Now, not so much. It took a long time but I decided that I should think of my future instead. And now, here we are."

Max listened, clutching Millie's hand, to the exchange between two men who had lost everything. The cold venom of the disembodied voice worried him. This was a man with little conscience and a twisted perspective view of his own history. He would never admit it, but Max was terrified, not for himself of course, but for Millie. For what she was hearing and for what could happen to her. He should send her away, to wait outside for back up, but that was well over ten minutes away and frankly he didn't trust her to stay put for that long. Besides, he couldn't see the current situation inside the building lasting that long. Georgie was unstable and Antonov, he felt sure that there could be no doubt now this was Antonov, was on a whole other level of madness. He still found it hard to feel any kind of sympathy for Georgie, but despite everything the man was important to Millie and her family. If he could provide enough distraction, it was possible that Georgie could be persuaded to be brought behind the relative safety of the stack of pallets. A sudden movement in the far corner, beyond where Georgie stood, caught Max's eye. It was probable that Antonov had no idea they were there. The henchman, bodyguard, whatever he was hadn't had the chance to report their presence, which gave Max an advantage, albeit slight. He just had to hope that Antonov didn't want Georgie dead just yet.

A strangled whimper behind him attracted his attention. Turning, Max squeezed Millie's hand reassuringly and gave her a little smile, hoping to coax the same from her, but she couldn't reciprocate. Worry and fear were etched deeply into her brow and her bottom lip was quivering so much she had to bite down hard to stop it.

"It's going to be okay. Stay here. I'll get him," he whispered. Millie nodded and sniffed, she wanted to believe every word. She wanted him to believe she had complete faith in him so that he could focus and not make a mistake. Reluctantly she pulled her hand free, letting him go, watching her fingers separate from his. Max flexed his fingers around the hand gun in his other hand. Not the type of weapon he was used to using, it was almost like driving an automatic car after having always driven a manual, he mused abstractly. Shifting his mind back into gear, he took a quick look over his shoulder, then back to Millie for a fortifying kiss and tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear before stepping out from behind the filthy pallets that had been their source of safety.

Out of her sight, Millie listened intently to his quiet footsteps, straining to hear any other noises that would warn him of danger. Two shots rang out echoing off the bare walls of the derelict brewery basement. Between them, the sickening sound of a body falling to the ground with a lifeless dull thud.

**A/N Just in case anyone hasn't realised, the last few paragraphs bring us back to the beginning … never thought it would take 38 chapters & over 100k words to get here!**


	39. Chapter 39

_**A/N - Titbit of current affairs in this one – SOCA really is set to disappear in 2013 as the UK government announces plans for the new National Crime Agency. **_

_**A/N Update - not really 'current' anymore, this chapter has been kicking around for bloody ages, refusing to improve no matter how much I tinker. Fingers crossed Ch40 will be more compliant.**_

-oo-

Hearing the swish of the door, Suzie looked up and over the helpless body, the sole survivor of the wrecked white transit van, lying in the hospital bed, battered and bruised. Even more so since Suzie had unleashed the possibilities of his future back in his homeland after she had explained just how difficult she could make things for him, if he failed to co-operate. Much of it had been exaggerated. The truth was that Suzie's sphere of influence lay with only a few at Interpol. The Russian Federal Security Service never returned her calls, but this guy wasn't to know that. Yet nonetheless she had woven together a fantastic tale of how he could expect to be at the mercy of not only those proprietors of the infamous Lubyanka but also of his own adopted mafia family. Beneath the cuts and bruises and despite the best efforts of the oxygen mask, Bogdan's pallor worsened. The man was little more than a boy, not unlike the luckless David Austin, still being held in the cells at Sun Hill with no hope of imminent return to his long-suffering mother. It seemed Antonov and Barsukov specialised in procuring the young and impressionable to do their dirty work. The trouble was Bogdan insisted, in his pidgin English, that he knew nothing more than Austin and Suzie's threats served only to heighten his anxiety and set off the buzzer to call for the nurse.

Fortunately the nurse who appeared ahead of Tommy was not the same severe African accented one of earlier in the day, but instead a rather easier tempered young man. Suzie raised her hands in innocent surprise at Bogdan's sudden deterioration and ignoring Tommy's supressed smile as the nurse glanced back at him.

"That was Max. We've gotta go."

"But-"

"Come on, I'll explain as we walk." He tossed the car keys flippantly over the patient and into Suzie's fumbling hands. "You can drive, I've got some calls to make."

Leaving poor Bogdan to his panic attack with a haughty '_I'll be back for you later'_ glare, Suzie stalked through the door Tommy held open for her. "So?" she demanded as they briskly began the short walk down to the hospital car park. "What is it?"

"Max and Millie have found Antonov. Or at least they think they have."

"What?" Suzie stopped in her tracks. "How?"

Tommy stared back at her strangely, puzzled by her incomprehension. "I don't know. Yet. It doesn't matter how, does it?"

"No, I suppose not," she mumbled and began walking again, managing to just about keep a half step ahead of Tommy.

"Max wants a CO19 unit deployed, so I guess he suspects Antonov must be armed. A fair assumption, in the circumstances I imagine."

"Where are they?"

"At the old brewery on Harpsden Road. Suzie are you okay? You seem … well … oh, I get it."

"Get what?"

"Don't play stupid with me, it doesn't suit you."

"I'm not! But if I'm going to update the DCI-"

"But you're not."

"Hey!"

"I am."

"He's my DCI!"

"And right now, right here, I am your senior officer."

The urge to connect her fist to Tommy's head was incredible. Or at least to do her best to give him a dead arm. But his demeanour was less playful than usual. A certain steeliness underlined his words indicating that he wasn't joking around this time, he wasn't having the usual laugh at her expense. He really meant to pull rank and the truth of it was, that she didn't really want to have to tell Manson that on top of their secret fears that they had woefully misunderstood the role of Georgie Fleischmann and allowed an unknown entity to commit, or at least order, murder and kidnap, that Sun Hill CID had found the sinister mastermind without any real help from SOCA, despite the hundreds if not thousands of man hours spent on Fleischmann and his businesses, all on Manson's say-so. Everything she knew about the man, all the files, the records, all of it was useless. All because they hadn't dug deeply enough into the history of his early imprisonment. Neil wasn't likely to take this well. Taking down Fleischmann was supposed to help him, and her, up the career ladder at a time of massive reorganisation when opportunities were there to be taken. Neil declared it to be a happy coincidence when it looked like Fleischman was about to fall into their laps just as the spotlight fell on SOCA but if Max and Millie really were about to uncover Antonov, instead the spotlight would be on all those wasted resources and man hours. Triumph was about to turn into embarrassment. Suzie clenched her jaw, angrily pulling the car door open and throwing herself in behind the wheel.

"I don't expect you to agree," Tommy spoke softly as he slid in next to her and rested his head back, his blue eyes firmly on her, "but I'm thinking of you, Suzie. It's better that I make the call."

His near misogynistic chivalry should have increased her anger, she should have refused this act of outdated kindness, but it felt sort of good to be cared for, to be protected instead of always doing the protecting and shielding. Making awkward calls, fielding the even more awkward ones. Tommy took her silence for acquiescence, even if it was reluctantly given, and dialled. While the phone at the other end rang, Tommy surprised himself. He compromised and hit speakerphone.

"Manson." The voice barked.

"Guv, it's Tommy. There's been a development."

"You've got something out of the Russian? Hold on for a moment, will you? I'm going to put you on speaker … if I can, how do I … got it …. Grace? In here … Go on Tommy." The sound of a door closing punctuated his command.

"No, we didn't get anywhere with Bogdan."

"What? Why not? Is Suzie with you?"

"Yes, Guv. I'm right here."

"Why didn't-"

"Guv," Tommy cut in with an obvious lack of regard for the normally accepted rules of respect for a senior officer, "I've just had a call from Max. He and Millie think they've found Antonov." There was a moment of silence while Tommy waited for a reaction. When nothing was forthcoming, he carried on. "They're down at the old brewery on Harpsden Road. We're on our way, but Max wants CO19 over there as well."

"What makes him think he's got Antonov?"

"I don't know, he couldn't say much. But Fleischmann is there as well and maybe Sondra Brown."

"What the hell is he paying at going in on his own!" Manson's control exploded. "He should have called me directly."

"Look, I don't know what is going on over there, but he needs back up."

"Yeah, well we'll take care of that from here," Manson interrupted tersely, clearly unhappy with his sidelined status. "Suggest you RV with them at the junction of Harpsden Road and er, Commercial Way."

"Aren't you coming down, Guv?"

"I don't think there's much point, do you Suzie?" Neil snapped sharply. "We'll talk when you get back here. I'm going to have to figure out how to explain all this."

It wasn't that Suzie was intimidated by the grimness in his tone. Even in his foulest moods, and they could be really foul, she was never intimidated by him. But a distance had opened between them that set her on edge as the call ended. It felt like their team of two was coming apart just as the bond with Tommy strengthened, moment by moment. Suzie slumped back into her seat, silent in contemplation as they sped through the streets towards the rendezvous with CO19. Her loyalty was shifting and the strange thing was, it all felt right, exciting. Tommy made her pulse race, it brought her alive and she wasn't going to let that go. The more she thought about it she realised that separation from Neil had been coming for a while. Ambition had always been his driving force, that and his son, but since joining SOCA Suzie had noticed he seemed to care a bit less about the people around him, depending on her to buffer his professional relationships to allow him more time for his own life. At the expense of hers, it seemed. Yes, it was time to move on.

"You okay?" Tommy asked quietly.

"Yes."

"Liar. Want to talk?"

"No. Maybe later. Maybe."

-oo-

The way Neil jabbed at the button to end the call made Grace wince. He didn't look at her, but she didn't need to see his face to know that he was furious at the turn of events. Still inside Max's office, and uncertain whether she should still be there, Grace watched and listened while Neil made all the necessary arrangements with CO19 command and then with Stone for uniform back up. His frustration was barely contained, a vein in his neck twitched, giving him away to Grace's vigilant eyes. Instructions were given with exaggerated authority, naming DS Tommy Leighton as the senior officer on the ground, leaving her to if that was a slight in Suzie's direction. She frowned, it seemed so odd, so out of character for him to want to censure Suzie.

"It might be a good idea to head over," she suggested as he finally turned his attention back to her. "I don't know whether DS Leighton has had had much experience of situations like this, not on his own anyway. Max isn't exactly great at delegating control. DS Leighton might appreciate the support."

"What from an old hand like me?" he replied with forced lightness.

"Well not exactly old," she smiled back and for a moment Neil's ego appeared soothed at the compliment of sorts. "Experienced."

"Yeah well, this is a Sun Hill case now." His tone staying tight.

"Does that matter?"

"Grace, I've spent nearly three years working towards putting Georgie Fleischmann behind bars. For what? To have Sun Hill CID and Barton Street uniform take the credit?"

"But this shouldn't be about who makes an arrest. We're all on the same side, aren't we? Your work has provided vital information-"

"It's very kind of you to say that Grace, but naïve," Neil retorted dismissively while tearing off his jacket and flinging it over the back of Max's chair, once his own. "That's not how it's going to look to the Commissioners of the Met or the SOCA board. The fact is that Max should have reported in to me and played this by the book. Not haring off like some sort of loose cannon. It's clear that he hasn't learnt anything over the years."

Grace blinked at Neil's tirade against a man who in the preceding days he had urged Grace to support and to ignore his bullying tactics, because despite his failings, Max was such a good officer. A tiny alarm bell rang somewhere in her mind at the inconsistency but just as she had done earlier, while interviewing Charlie Hammond, she silenced it.

"Look, I'm sorry," he went on contritely after a moment's hesitation. "I shouldn't have said that. It's more difficult than I thought, being back here," Neil looked at her intently. "But you and me, we can be honest with each other, can't we?"

Grace smiled weakly, nodding gratefully for his acknowledgement of whatever it was that bound them. "Yeah. Of course we can."

Neil smiled. "Good. That's good. Well, I suppose there is a chance this case might get overlooked, what with the SOCA website being hacked today. Someone will be for the high jump. Anyway, perhaps we should be in the IBO, keep an eye on things from there," he offered, heading for the door and gallantly indicating that she should go first. As she turned, Grace could have sworn she saw the grimness return to his expression but by the time she looked back again, his features betrayed nothing but coolly held control.

_**A/N 2 - SOCA website really has been hacked today! Quite ironic as one of its functions is to investigate cybercrime ...**_


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N Thanks to all for reading & reviews. The prize goes to Firebird, although I imagine others will also have guessed correctly ...**

The world ended for Millie. She stood frozen, staring at nothing while her blood pounded furiously in her ears. It seemed to go on forever, the sounds of the gunshots reverberating off the dry, stained walls, tugging at her consciousness, whooshing through the stale air around her body. Except that the air that seemed to swirl around her came with scraping, stumbling footsteps, and then something slammed into her legs, nearly knocking her off her feet. Jerkily she looked down, still wide-eyed, as she felt him tug at her wrist.

"Shit … I'm sorry, I couldn't … Millie! Get down will you?" Max rasped.

Millie dropped to her knees and pulled him to her, digging her fingers into his shoulders though the cotton of his shirt and burying her face into his neck, needing to feel the pulse beneath his skin as if she couldn't really believe that he was alive. Another shot fired out and he returned her grip as a different sound, not a gun this time but no less disturbing, joined the echoes in the room.

"He's getting away!" whispered Max urgently, scrambling to his feet and pulling Millie with him.

"But Georgie!"

"Too late … it's too late for him, but I'm not going to let that bastard shake us off now. We're too close."

Together they burst back out into the bright sunlight, squinting while they gained their bearings. A car door closed with an expensive clunk and Millie turned sharply to see a figure in Georgie's abandoned Lexus, just as its engine juddered to life.

"He's in Georgie's car," she mumbled almost to herself, while Max still struggled to come to terms with the ferocity of the sun, shielding his eyes.

"Wha-? Millie, wait!" he cried out as she began to run towards their parked cars. "The Vauxhall! We'll take the Vauxhall," he insisted, grateful when she swerved towards the blue pool car, laden with tracker and various other bits of kit that might just prove useful. Also, if he was honest, he really preferred to avoid his own car getting scraped, crunched or shot at, if at all possible.

The Lexus streaked past and out of the car park on to the service road. Max forced the car into gear and followed, wheels spinning, screeching with the effort required to catch up.

"Faster," urged Millie shrilly, as the Lexus disappeared out of sight heading away from the centre of Canley.

"I'm going as fast as this thing will go, Millie," retorted Max, his foot flat to the floor. "Useless heap of shite," he added in disgust before noticing that she was reaching into her back pocket. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to call it in," she mumbled, already scrolling thorugh her stored numbers, "to the IBO at Sun Hill."

He hesitated for a moment, eyes flitting between the road and car ahead and the suddenly very self-possessed woman next to him. "Wait," he urged, playing for time so that he could figure out the best way to deal with this.

Her thumb paused, hovering over the phone. "Why? We need back up, you said we needed back up."

"That was before he murdered Georgie and took off!" exclaimed Max. "We have no idea where he is heading."

"Even more reason to call it in," countered Millie. "He must be going to wherever he's got Mum. I don't want him being able to get to her first."

"Think about it Millie! He knows we're following him, how is it going to help if half the Met with lights and sirens turn up on his tail as well? We know what he is capable of. We've just seen what he is capable of. If he panics …" he left the possibilities hanging in the air between them. "If there is a chance that he is going to wherever he's holding Sondra I don't want to give him a reason to change his mind."

Millie stared at her phone thoughtfully. "We can't stop him on our own. I just don't want to be unprepared."

"What? Like haring off after Georgie without telling anyone? That wasn't unprepared?"

"You would have made me wait! There wasn't time!"

Max stared ahead, knuckles whitening on the steering wheel as he swerved violently to avoid someone in the road. The Lexus was still in view, its course no less erratic. "Do it." He spoke through gritted teeth. "They can track us, and keep CO19 well back. No sirens unless necessary."

Millie dialled. "This is PC Millie Brown from Barton Street. I'm with DI Carter, in pursuit of a suspect we believe to be Nikolai Antonov, heading east on Wainwright Lane, following a gold Lexus registration EN11 GFF. Get an ambulance and a unit over to the old brewery on Harpsden Road, there's been a fatal shooting."

"Got that," the nameless IBO officer replied efficiently before Millie heard a questioning voice in the background. "DCI Manson is here, PC Brown, he'd like a word. I'll pass you over. You're on speaker, Sir. PC Brown can hear you."

Millie steeled herself, not for courage but to stop the flow of vitriol that she really would like to unleash on the man. "It's Manson," she whispered to Max, covering the phone with her hand.

"Try to be nice," he muttered back at her, his eyes fixed firmly on the road and their quarry still ahead.

"Sir-" she broke off as the car again swerved violently forcing her to clutch at the hand rail at her side.

"So you've found Antonov?"

"Yeah, he arranged to meet Georgie."

"So I gather. What happened?" Manson's voice was tight.

Millie bit down on her lower lip, knowing that saying the words would make her Godfather's death real and final. "He's dead. Antonov shot him."

"Right. And Antonov got away?"

"No, not exactly," she retorted defensively, "we're following him."

"Well if you had waited before tearing off, both of you, you might not be just following him, we might already have the man in custody!" Manson exploded.

"There was no time!" Millie wailed, sick of having to repeatedly defend her actions. She'd done the right thing, she knew that. Max shot her a warning glance but she simply narrowed her eyes and scowled at him in return.

In the IBO, Neil turned sharply to find Grace watching him with concern. Her soft eyes brought him back to his senses, realising that now wasn't the time for blame and scapegoats. Antonov had to be caught and brought in, preferably alive if skins were to be saved and promotions won. Anything else could wait until later. He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "Where are you now?"

"Currently heading east on Lea Valley Road, we're in the blue Vauxhall pool car, registration … er … um-"

"I've picked up the tracker device on their car, Sir," the IBO officer called out, "their position is up on screen. All eyes now swung towards the large flat screen dominating the wall opposite.

"Right, we've got you. I'll get CO19 to catch up with you."

"Keep them right back, no sirens" Millie instructed firmly. "Antonov knows we're behind him, but we don't want him to panic if he thinks half the Met are on his tail." Out of the corner of her eye she could see Max's grim approval at the repitition of his words, bolstering her own confidence. "We need to know where he is going. Can you get a helicopter to watch from the sky?"

"Yeah," he glanced down at the officer seated to his right. She nodded and mouthed 'on it'.

The IBO lapsed into silence, listening to Millie's intermittent narration of the course of the journey as the chase continued. The route took Max and Millie further from the centre of Canley and out on quieter roads. The tracker device on the car made her commentary largely unnecessary but it she needed to be able to do something and the occasional 'Got that' was strangely comforting. She could almost convince herself that this was a normal day at work. Fewer cars, fewer people, ghost-like relics of a more industrious age occasionally punctuated the straight roads built for commerce, for the days when the people of London were needed to make the objects that made the world go round, before it could all be produced so much more cheaply elsewhere in the world. Post war industry had encroached on farmland on the edge of London, but with each recession over the decades gradually the sheep made it back on to the disused railway sidings, grazing on drought-parched grass, filling the gaps that industry and commerce had failed to populate.

Momentarily lost in her disconnected thoughts, Millie was jolted back to the present as the Lexus took a sudden right prompting Millie's heart beat wildly, panicking that Antonov might be lost forever. Her alarm increased when despite taking the same turn it was nowhere to be seen, the road ahead deserted. Her eyes widened, her hands gripping the phone tightly as Max raced on. "Where-? There!" she cried, pointing diagonally to the right. "Over there!"

Max accelerated, following her directions up a slope leading off the road into what appeared to be a boarded up pub. The empty Lexus parked haphazardly in front of it. "The Hind's Head," she yelled into the phone while disentangling herself from the seat belt.

Listening intently, Grace quickly dived into the file of notes listing Drobyshev Holdings properties. "Hind's Head? That sounds familiar, Guv. Here … here it is! How did this get missed? Look, it's part of the Drobyshev portfolio."

"Max? Wait for back up! Max?" There was no reply.


	41. Chapter 41

**A/N With apologies to Firebird for the ending of the previous chapter ... here is the ending it should have had, had I been less lazy/impatient ... not quite the end though ...**

The Lexus was pulled up close to the front of the building, the driver's side door still hung open as if ready for the driver to jump back in. At least that was how it seemed to Millie. Her overriding desire was to get into the desolate looking pub and drag out the bastard with her bare hands before he had the chance. During the long minutes of the chase, she had run the gamut of her emotions. Shock, loss, fear, resentment and had firmly arrived at cold, determined fury. Max seemed to give up telling her to wait and instead resorted to physically holding her back so that he could give some degree of protection from herself.

A muffled shriek leaked from the building. Max heard it first and lurched forward a step, holding Millie's hand tightly in his, keeping her behind him. But he was stopped in his tracks by the appearance of a woman, dishevelled, scared and clearly disorientated. Out from shadows behind her, Antonov finally came into view. For the first time, the man who had wrought such havoc in the space of less than a week became more than some sort of ghostly presence from the past. Suddenly he was completely real.

In one hand he held a gun to Sondra's head, the other hand cruelly holding her by the neck, forcing her head to tilt down towards the ground. Her arms were pinned behind her back, presumably tied to prevent any kind of effective struggle. The gun glinted maliciously in the unforgiving sunlight as he waved it in their direction. Instinctively, Max made to step back but clashed with Millie as she surged forward.

"Mum!"

Sondra jerked her head back at the sound of Millie's anguished voice and gave a terrified cry that tore into Millie's heart. This woman could not look less like her wonderfully composed and always immaculately dressed mother. Her hair, always so perfectly styled, whether loose or in a classic chignon, hung raggedly over her face. She was deathly pale, tired, and somehow frighteningly aged in the space of just a few days.

Antonov faltered, recognising the daughter of his one true love, perhaps the daughter he had earlier asserted that he should have had. His mouth opened wordlessly, the gun drooping just a fraction. Max sensed an opportunity but before he could act, his opponents top lip curled into a maniacal snarl. He growled, his nostrils flaring, but Millie was immune.

"Let her go!" she roared.

"Get away or I will kill her and then you." He jabbed the gun into Sondra's temple, dragging her with him towards the Lexus, her feet stumbling, desperate to reach out to her daughter while anxious to secure her safety.

She whimpered, frightened not for herself, but for the precious life of her eldest child. "Please, Millie, darling. Do what he says. He won't hurt me if you do what he says," she pleaded hoarsely.

Millie could only watch in horror as the crazed man dragged her mother nearer and nearer to the car until he was close enough to yank open the rear door and force her in to lie awkwardly across the back seats, her hands still bound behind her back. The gun was now trained on Millie as Antonov slammed the door, imprisoning Sondra yet again. He snarled at Millie, a guttural warning not to take another step. "Do not follow," he instructed monstrously and for the first time, she had the opportunity to squarely face him, to study him, if only for this briefest moment. A long scar framed his face on one side, pulling down the corner of his mouth, intensifying the cruelty in his warning. All the trials and tribulations of loving Max were put into perspective by the bleakness this man represented. A chill wave sickeningly ran through her, where was Max? No longer could she feel him by her side, the strength of his body and presence was gone. She was torn, torn between spinning round to find him but unable to take her eyes off Antonov, perhaps in the forlorn hope that there might be a weakness she might exploit. But there was nothing, he had the gun and insanity in his expression left her in no doubt that he would do as he threatened. Already with two deaths on his hands, hers would certainly mean nothing to him.

He slowly backed into the open driver's side door and slid round it into the car, pulling the door shut with him. Frantically, Millie looked round, where the hell was Max? Where had he gone and why wasn't he doing something? Anything? The engine started and with a screech shot backwards and away from Millie. She stood powerless to do anything, utterly bewildered at having found her mother only to immediately lose her again.

While Antonov had eyes only for the two redheaded women, Max slipped away, feeling certain that his own presence had been barely registered. The gun was warming in his hand, gradually becoming part of him, despite having initially felt so alien. It was a familiar feeling, the reassurance of a firearm, or rather the reassurance that he could do this, that this was his territory. He'd done it before and he'd always be able to do it again. Had negotiation been on the cards, he might have felt a whole lot less confident. Fortunately, Antonov wasn't the negotiating type.

The Vauxhall didn't entirely hide him but it gave just enough camouflage to buy Max some time and space. The Lexus shot past, swerving back in an arc towards the perimeter wall and then forwards. Max stepped out from behind the car, thanking Georgie for being too flash for tinted windows, for always wanting to be seen at the wheel of his golden chariot. The view was perfect. The gun pointed out from Max's hands, steady, no display of nerves because there were none. Antonov stared over the steering wheel at him but then the car then suddenly swerved again, this time to the left in the direction of the exit of the car park. Max cursed as he was forced to re-evaluate and alter his aim. The shot burst into the air, ripping into the front tyre of the Lexus and sending it careening off at a tangent and mounting the broken down wall to the side of the exit. It rocked precariously on a high pile of bricks, steam rising from the crumpled bonnet, water already dripping from the punctured radiator. Max cautiously closed in on the wreck, the gun still cradled in his outstretched hands.

Inside, the air bag had inflated, pinning Antonov in his seat. Through the window, Max could see he was dazed, rubbing at his head with one hand while staring murderously at Max. But then slowly, so slowly, his other hand came into view and with it his gun. It was all the encouragement Max needed. Remembering standard procedure, he shouted at Antonov to put the gun down, yet without the slightest belief that he would do so. Without any desire for him to do so. There was only one way for this to go.

Millie watched, transfixed with horror as another shot punched into the silence. She lurched forward as Max reeled backward a half step, her momentum still carrying her forward as two further shots rang out. It was impossible to tell who fired first, all she could see was that Max was injured, blood already stained his shirt sleeve but still he stood. Then he took a step forward and by the time Millie reached his side he was already yanking open the rear door allowing the sound of weak, whimpering cries to pour out.

Together they pulled Sondra from the car, and while she stood shuddering with shock, Max freed her hands from the tight bond which had rubbed her wrists almost raw. Millie pulled her to her feet, holding her tightly, fearing that if she didn't, her mother might be spirited away, out of her reach once again. The thought jarred and Millie looked over her mother's shoulder anxiously. Immediately her sharpened gaze found Max watching them. He shook his head, answering her silent panicked enquiry, and leant back against the car in relief as Millie turned her attention back to comforting Sondra. His upper arm throbbed painfully and after awkwardly pushing the gun back into the waist of his jeans, he clamped a hand down on the injury, grimacing at the blood seeping stickily between his fingers. The car hissed angrily, reminding them all that the threat of danger was not entirely eradicated and slowly, just as an area car came into view, Max guided the only two women he could truly say he loved towards safety.


	42. Chapter 42

**Penultimate chapter ...**

Max could have done without Suzie barrelling into him at the bar. The pain shot through his arm, somehow worse than the pain of the bullet which had sliced through fabric and skin, leaving a nasty looking, if not actually serious, wound. He clenched his jaw, thankfully managing to stifle the threatening yelp. A fresh shirt meant that there was no outward display of the injury, giving no prompt for either sympathy or satisfaction from colleagues. He preferred it this way, although it did make accidents like this more likely.

"Sorry," muttered Suzie, but she had to bite down on her lower lip to suppress a giggle. Max glanced at Tommy, standing protectively, or perhaps possessively, behind her.

"You feeling that, Guv?" Tommy asked. It was a man-to-man question that had only one answer.

"Nah. It's nothing."

Tommy nodded in unspoken understanding

"Can I get you something to drink, Guv?" Suzie chirped, having already ordered a pint for Tommy and a large white for herself, turning back to the girl at the bar when he shook his head, gesturing to his half full glass.

"You were pretty cool back there," Tommy began quietly. "Taking him out after taking a shot yourself."

"It's only a flesh wound, I didn't notice it until afterwards anyway," Max mumbled uncomfortably, still annoyed with himself for having given Antonov the opportunity to take a shot at him. On the plus side, it gave him the excuse of having used reasonable force in defending himself. It was unlikely the DPS was going to be able to give him a hard time.

Tommy appeared to read his mind. "Probably just as well he did fire first though. Third time for you isn't it?"

"Yeah, well, I'm not worried. Just glad no one else got hurt." Max stared down into his drink. It wasn't the first time that he'd thought about how easily Millie or Sondra or both might have been caught in the crossfire and he really didn't want to dwell on it.

"So," Tommy rubbed at his chin ruminatively, "I still don't understand why he kidnapped Sondra Brown. I get that he wanted revenge on Fleischmann, but why involve her?"

Max half turned to set down his glass, studiously ignoring Suzie next to him who was now noisily tapping a fingernail on the bar while waiting for her change. "Love. Obsession. Madness. I don't really know. He had a thing for her years ago and blamed Fleischmann for grassing him up and being sent down. In Siberia," Max added with emphasis. "Apparently he spent years planning his revenge on Fleischmann and how he was going to get her back. Not that Sondra ever gave him any encouragement. She only ever wanted to be with Richard, never was interested in Antonov as anything other than a friend."

"You believe her?"

"Yes," Max asserted rather too hotly even to his own ears. "Yes, I do," he reiterated more levelly.

Tommy shrugged, giving way to his superior's superior knowledge. "But Antonov didn't know that?"

Max shrugged. "Who can say? Sondra said that he told her, kept telling her over and over, that he had always loved her and spent years planning how he was going to get her back, spend the rest of their lives together. It seems he was released after the fall of communism and set to making money. Really big money. Mainly through protection and racketeering, branching out into drugs and guns. It was pretty lawless back then, still is really. But he still had his old contacts, and a few new ones made while he was inside, and nothing to lose. Being imprisoned for crimes against the old Soviet state helped, I imagine. Showed capitalist enterprise."

"He nearly managed it."

"Yeah. He nearly did," Max agreed soberly.

"Didn't bank on Millie though, did he?"

Max looked up sharply and then smiled a tiny rueful smile, tinged with pride. He'd underestimated her, as well as played a few cards very badly over the last few days. He could only pray that Jessa Bennett never crossed his path again, as much for her sake as his.

"Are you still angry with her for following Fleischmann without talking to you first?"

"Not sure you've a leg to stand on there, have you?" chipped in Suzie rather bluntly as she handed her would-be lover his drink and earning herself a glare in return. "I mean, you would have stopped her, right? And, from what I hear, you've gone awol yourself from time to time," she added taking a sip from her wine glass while Tommy growled her name in warning.

Max frowned and then sighed, too tired to really put up a fight. Sometimes it was easier to just agree. "You're probably right," he concurred picking up his glass. But his phone beeped into life alerting him to a new message and he had to replace his drink on the bar once again.

_All okay here. M&D settled, T&G have all under control. Coming home now._

Just a few words. A few ordinary words. Except one, _home_. Their home. Her home with him. That word alone told him everything he needed to know. He might have a lot of ground to make up, and he had a plan for that, thinking of the two white unsealed envelopes with their unsigned contents in his car. But that could wait until the morning. A smile spread across his face, warming his eyes and flushing colour into his cheeks. He read the message once again, just to be one hundred per cent sure, or perhaps just because it felt so good. "Gotta go, guys!" he announced abruptly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Suzie raised her eyebrows at his sudden change from morose to joyful brightness, jauntily slapping Mickey on the shoulder as he wove his way through the crowd of colleagues and strangers in the pub. "What brought that on?"

"Well, I can't be sure, but I'd hazard a guess that is a man looking forward to seeing his woman, if you know what I mean?" Tommy replied suggestively into her ear, enjoying how her initial confusion morphed slowly into wide-eyed understanding.

"Oh! I see. Well, I have to admit I've changed my opinion of those two."

"Yeah? How's that?"

"It's hard to imagine that they could have had a tougher time than these past few days, but it looks like they are strong enough together that they can get through it. I admire that. It would be much easier for one of them to walk away."

"Not sure it's as simple as that, Suzie. I get the impression that he's not out of the dog-house yet. Besides. Who knows what really goes on behind closed doors?"

"Hmm. Indeed." Suzie took another sip of her drink, her attention now focussed on her boss, moving amiably from group to group. Doling out twenty pound notes every so often to get a round in 'on him'. He'd become ever the political animal at SOCA, manipulating and developing alliances and favours. She noticed that while he chatted and joked with old colleagues, he was just as interested in the newer faces she understood to be earmarked for future success. Just as she had been when they had first worked together. But success came with such a price and she wasn't so sure anymore that she wanted to pay it. In her reverie she lost sight of Manson for a moment and in searching for him again, she found Grace, standing next to Jo and Terry, staring across the room. Following her gaze, it was clear who was the object of her interest. Suzie chewed on her lower lip, only half listening to the rather uninspiring male banter between Tommy and Smithy who had arrived at the bar with one of Neil's twenties, contemplating what her boss was up to. Could he really be so unaware of Grace's fascination, and if he wasn't, what sort of game was he playing?

"How about we head outside to get some air? I need a fag." Smithy was gone, leaving Tommy free to move his game along a step or two.

"Filthy habit."

"Not my filthiest, I can assure you."

"I can imagine."

"Really? I think I'd like to know more about what you are imagining. Perhaps you'd like to tell me. Outside?" Suzie's eyes sparkled at his, the corners of her mouth twitching, but somewhere in her peripheral vision, she caught sight of Manson by the door to the car park. He was leaving, nodding his goodbye to her before he turned and disappeared.

They had talked a little after the team returned to Sun Hill. Other events in the wider world during the day had already begun to take precedence in Manson's mind. The debacle of SOCA playing second fiddle to Sun Hill paled with insignificance when the news filtered in that the head of the Metropolitan Police had resigned over phone-hacking and it was rumoured that at least one of his deputies wasn't far behind. Manson's eyes had been alight with the potential opportunities that lay ahead for him, and her he had added quickly, depending on who scored in securing the vacant top jobs and the shake-up that would surely follow like a house of cards. But she had landed her own surprise, telling him that this visit had caused her to re-evaluate and that she was strongly considering a move back into CID. He had been stunned and, she thought, a little shaken, he'd urged her to think about it for longer and away from the influence of certain Sun Hill personnel. Tommy. But she had thought about it. The fact was she had no idea whether Tommy could be 'The One'. She had known him less than a week, it would be ludicrous to make such an assumption, but she did know that she couldn't remember ever feeling quite so alive. Even if or when this thing with Tommy came to an end, there was no way she could go back to her solitary lifestyle, supporting her boss who was already in the throes of moving on and would eventually leave her behind. Everything was changing and she would be a fool not to take the lead.

"Come on then!" she exclaimed, sloshing her drink. "What are you waiting for?" Following a similar route to Max, but hoping to draw rather less attention to themselves, they made their way out into what passed for a garden. It was actually little more than a grubby canopy stretched over a few tables and benches for the benefit of the anti-social smokers. Only a couple of pot plants softened the setting. But after the stuffiness of the crowded pub, the cool evening air felt glorious on Suzie's bared arms, accentuating the warmth of his fingers as they trailed over her skin. The excuse of coming out for a smoke was clearly just that. Nothing more than a ruse for getting her alone. And she was going to let it work. Except annoyingly the moment was interrupted by quick footsteps and then the sound of a car engine revving behind her, followed by the whine of it reversing and then accelerating away. Susie knew that car belonged to Neil, but the arrival of Grace instantly killed the intimacy Tommy had planned.

Grace stood stock still, her mouth slightly open, dumbfounded as she watched Neil drive out of the car park. He hadn't spoken to her other than to buy her a drink when he first arrived at the pub over an hour ago. It had felt a bit odd, to have been otherwise ignored, but, she had reasoned, they'd spent a lot of time together over the last few days. It was only natural he would want to catch up with the others. She had tried to catch his eye, just to make sure he wasn't completely avoiding her, but the room had been so busy that it was impossible. Reluctantly, Grace had bided her time. She could wait for the time to be right. She was a patient woman. But that time hadn't come. Here he was, driving away, no backward glance. No goodbye. No promises of later. Nothing. He had gone, again.

"Why … wh-where?" Grace stammered, refusing to accept what her eyes was seeing, what her head was telling her.

Suzie had to assume that Grace was talking to her, even though the other woman didn't address her directly. She looked at Tommy nervously, who returned her glance with confused concern. "Didn't Neil tell you? I thought …"

"Thought what?"

"Thought … well … seeing as how you and he have spent so much time together over the last few days …"

"What, Suzie?" Grace demanded, a hint of hysteria edged into her voice. "What?"

"He's on his way to Heathrow, to collect his partner. She's moving to the UK from Portugal to live with him." Suzie watched as each word she spoke seemed to hit Grace like a shower of tiny daggers, each one cutting into her tightly restrained façade. "Oh God," Suzie whispered. "He really didn't tell you anything about Marguerite, did he? They've been seeing each other for almost a year now." Grace, I'm so sorry!" Suzie reached out to the stricken woman but she shrank away.

Grace stared ahead to the now motionless car park, only vaguely aware of footsteps behind her when she felt a firm hand at her elbow and the sound of Jo's softly concerned voice. But the words Jo spoke made no sense, incapable as her brain was in deciphering them amidst the chaos raging in her head. All those secretive phone calls, those furtive text messages made sense now. Yet every word he had uttered, every glance, every touch played back in her mind. Had they all been imagined? Was she really that delusional? Or, worse still was she simply so gullible to have believed him? It might have been less painful to be able to believe the former, but the truth was clear. He had used her and she had let him and now he had gone. Just as he had done before. Except this time it was into the arms of another woman.


	43. Chapter 43

**So! Over 120k words and well over a year in the writing (why has it taken so long? Oh yes, real life) 'In From The Cold' finally comes to an end. I thank all who have stuck with it, trust me I never thought it would go on (and on and on ...), but especially thanks to Feebee and Firebird for being such conscientious reviewers and all round great support. I would definitely have stalled without you!**

**Warning: If raunch ain't your thing, then skip the middle section. Raunch is Feebee's thing so that part is specifically dedicated to her! Couldn't bring this to an end without a bit of that could I?**

**Here goes ...**

**-ooOoo-**

It took a great deal of restraint not to race back to the flat. But Max was determined not to screw up any more than he had already by causing an accident or being embarrassingly caught in a speed trap. He leapt up the half flight of steps that took him to the front door. The room beyond was largely cloaked in darkness, only shards of light from the security lighting in the car park illuminated the room. He flicked the light switch and surveyed the scene that greeted him. For a moment it took him back to the time, not much more than twelve hours ago, when everything was so different. The remains of their breakfast, hastily abandoned, littered the table and counter top, papers lay scattered across the coffee table, shoes lay where they had been discarded over the preceding few days. The normal order of things had slipped. Max checked his watch, it was a little over twenty minutes since her text. Bearing in mind that it was generally impossible to leave the Brown family house without a great deal of fuss, he guessed he probably had another twenty minutes before she arrived home. Home. He still felt a little thrill that this was still home. Hurriedly, galvanised by that thought, he set to tidying the room, clearing away plates and mugs haphazardly into the dishwasher, preparing himself for the inevitable fallout in the morning when Millie would grumble at him for not stacking it efficiently. He paused for a brief moment, finding himself looking forward to being told off, and then shoved the frying pan across the top rack for good measure. Might as well go the whole hog and take his punishment like a man. With the kitchen cleared and at least cosmetically ordered, he swept up discarded towels and clothing into the washing machine but had to grimace as remembered that he still had no idea how it worked, despite the best efforts of Millie and Sondra to educate him. Deciding to add that to his list of misdemeanours he headed back into their bedroom and stared at the unmade bed, wondering whether he had enough time to locate the right sheets and change the linen when he was interrupted by the sound of her key in the door.

With her eyes closed, Millie rested back against the door, pushing it closed. It was so good to be home. She'd felt oddly out of place at her parent's house, a sense of not quite belonging there anymore.

"You okay?" his voice was soft, caressing her from the other side of the room and coaxing her eyes open.

"Yeah," she replied. "Tired." She breathed in deeply and let the air leave her lungs slowly and with it some of the tension her body had been harbouring.

"How are Sondra and Richard?"

"Well, they'd stopped crying by the time I left," Millie tried to inject a little humour into her answer but the intensity of her parents reunion had been shattering to watch, overwhelming the relief she had felt at securing her mother's safety. She paused, looking down at her clasped hands. "I've never seen them like that," she went on quietly. "Dad was … it … it kind of makes me wonder what would have happened if we didn't find her …" Millie's voice cracked. In an instant she felt Max's close in on her, enveloping her with his body, his hands holding her head into his shoulder as she fought to hold on to some degree of composure. "I don't think he would have been able to go-"

"Sh … sh. Stop, you don't need to think like that. There is no 'what if?' It's all over, nothing else matters. It's finished."

Millie pulled back to look up at him, her lower lip trembling, her fragile self-control ebbing away. "It's not that easy, not for me. I can't pretend that none of this happened, that it could all have ended differently." Max knew where this was going. Back to her perception of his ability to view the world in black and white, good and evil, fixed and broken. That she found his mentality hard to comprehend had always been a source of unease, sometimes exhausting but ultimately, he knew, a price worth paying. If it made them an odd couple in the eyes of the world, so be it.

"I know." He brushed away a tear from her cheek and then guided her back into his arms. His acceptance of their differences seemed to work, or perhaps it was simply fatigue, but she relaxed into him, her head becoming comfortingly heavy against his body. They stood for a while, soundless save for their breathing and heartbeats, each apparently absorbed in self-contemplation.

Millie was the first to speak. "How did it go with the DPS?" she asked seriously.

Max took a deep breath. He didn't really want to have to talk about this. He didn't really want to talk, full stop but Millie being Millie, and a woman, it was inevitable and probably in his best interests to comply. "Okay. The usual. I'm restricted to the station for now, they'll tell me tomorrow whether I'll be suspended pending their inquiry."

"Do you think you will be? Suspended?"

Max shrugged. "No idea and," he yawned, "I don't care." Millie stared at him oddly. "I mean it," he insisted taking her face in his hands once again and looking into her soulful eyes. "The only important thing is that we are all safe. Taking Antonov out was the right thing to do and I can't see how the DPS will find otherwise."

"I suppose it will help that Mum and I are the only witnesses. Knocking out the other guy was a lucky move. He won't be able to make any allegations against you."

Max smiled grimly, unhappy at the prospect of both Millie and Sondra being questioned by the DPS because of his own actions. His only regret. "Yeah, well I hope they go easy on you."

"I'll be fine," Millie told him gravely. The question was would he be fine? This was the fourth death at his hands.

Max seemed to read her mind. "Of course I'll have to go through all the motions of counselling, he muttered with a grimace.

"Perhaps you shouldn't just go through the motions this time," responded Millie quietly.

Her hands were soothing against his chest. Normally he would have rejected any such suggestion with vehemence. Expressing his thoughts, thoughts that belonged inside his head not in the open world, was bad enough but even he had come to realise that Millie was worth making the effort for, even if it frequently went against every instinct. It was the least she deserved. Do-gooding, time-wasting shrinks, on the other hand, deserved nothing as far as he was concerned. Yet he sighed in acquiescence. "You're probably right," hoping that would be enough for now.

Fortunately luck was on his side as Millie lifted a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn, signalling a more immediate need. "But, now, bed."

-oo-

Millie rarely woke earlier than Max unless her alarm forced her to and even then he usually came round at about the same time. With little rest over the preceding nights, Millie had submitted to deep sleep the instant her head hit the pillow, not even managing to stay awake long enough for him to turn out the light as he climbed in next to her. She hoped she hadn't snored. Now wide awake and restless, Millie watched the man sleeping next to her for a few moments, a rare treat, before unsteadily getting up and heading into their bathroom. Her mouth felt horrid and after splashing cold water on her face she set about brushing her teeth. It was very early, not quite six o'clock and the sun was only beginning to make its presence felt in the morning sky, and bringing with it a pink tinged dawn, the precursor of much needed rain and lower temperatures. The previous night had been much cooler than it had been for weeks and it was a blissful relief to not wake feeling stifled by the oppressively muggy heat.

She left him still apparently deep in sleep, his face partially buried into the pillow, and went through to the kitchen to make coffee and sift through the mounting pile of post. Mainly clothing and home catalogues flogging end of sale tat and three identical ones from Boden. She tutted inwardly and turned to place two on the recycle pile, catching her hip on the dishwasher door left slightly ajar. She peered down. A black pan handle jutted out awkwardly, catching her attention. She took a deep breath. Would he ever learn how to stack a dishwasher? How many times did she have to tell him that ramming an item in with brute force did not mean that it would fit, let alone wash properly? But then she stopped her silent rant. Did it really matter? And on the plus side, at least he was trying.

With the coffee machine still doing its thing, Millie wandered back into the bedroom to see if he had woken. The room was empty, sounds of water running in the bathroom beyond giving away his whereabouts. She dropped down onto the bed and hugged her knees up to her chest, her silk robe slipping from one shoulder as she leant back against the headboard. With little to distract her and without the cover of sleep to anaesthetise, the doubts and worries began to re-enter her mind. Not about the depth of their love, but that their connection, what it was that held that love together might have been damaged by anger and disgust. The bed on which she sat, the scene of hideous, barely consensual sex, where perhaps too much was said and done to be able to live with, was a painful reminder of that night. Millie swallowed and shut her eyes tightly, concentrating on her breathing to calm her fears. She was over-reacting, and understandably so, she told herself sternly but it was still no reason to become irrational. Their bond had been severely tested before and they had got through it. This would be no different. Opening her eyes, it took Millie a few moments to realise that the closed bathroom door on the periphery of her vision had been replaced by the naked form of Max, his arms braced against the frame. She was sure he looked different, a little leaner perhaps. His body seemed sharper, less fleshy from days of not eating properly and too much stress. She longed for him to be closer, to touch, to feel his strength. Millie let her legs slide down and turned to face him, the robe slipping further, her worries evaporating as quickly as they had arisen.

Max gripped the doorframe, tightening his grasp as she turned. His stomach flipped. The painted provocateur of two nights ago was long gone. In her place, sprawled across the bed was the most beautiful creature he had ever known. The same beautiful creature he woke up with every day and took to bed every night, shift patterns permitting. That made him the luckiest man alive. Not just because he had convinced her to take him on in the first place, but also because despite his own failures, she was still here. Just. The robe slipped a little more giving him an even more enticing glimpse of the swell of her breast, the merest hint of a dusky nipple, the rest of which brazenly made its presence known through the silk of the robe, now riding high on her smooth thighs. His blood raced, pounding through his veins, bringing his senses alive, desperate to touch skin and inhale her scent. Her eyes, fixed on his to begin with, scanned the lines of his body, he could feel her gaze roam just as sensually as her fingers ever could, or her mouth. He swallowed and took a deep breath at the thought, at the prospect. His cock, already intensely aroused, hardened. He couldn't get this wrong, had to take it slow, had to make it perfect. No rushing, no complacency. But suddenly doubt hit him. What if it was too soon, what if she didn't want-

Millie moved towards him, making it perfectly clear that she did want. She seemed to do little more than shrug and the robe fell from her body. In an instant he was resting one knee on the bed, his hands gently hold her face, pulling her up towards him. His lips seized on hers, drinking in the sensation as if crazed by thirst. Her fingers were in his hair, deliciously scoring his scalp and pulling him down into the kiss. Nothing existed for either beyond the softness of lips and tongues seeking and finding such perfection in each other. Millie was the first to break away. For a moment he panicked, his heart stopping at her withdrawal, but the clear message in her eyes, asking him silently to follow her down onto the bed, reassured him. Her hand traced lightly from his neck down along the length of his arm until she held him by only her fingertips. No greater hold was necessary as utterly powerless to resist even if her had wanted to, he allowed himself to fall onto his side, facing each other among the crumpled linen. Gently she pushed him over onto his back, holding his cheek in her hand, tilting his chin slightly to receive her kiss. Without words, Max felt forgiven.

Her hair fell like a rich titian curtain, he pushed it back and held it, tangling it in his fingers, gently guiding her back to him if ever it seemed she might pull away once again. Yet it was impossible to stop her as her lips sought fresh pasture, first sampling a soft ear lobe, nibbling, lightly pulling and then releasing with an exquisite torture. Her cruelty continued along the line of his neck and a gasp escaped from his mouth, eliciting a murmur of satisfaction from her. He let her have this victory. His gasp turned to a growl when her fingertips raked across the tight discs of his nipples, the tiny nubs always so sensitive. Of course she knew that, just as she knew how he would react when her soft lips and blunt teeth would find their way there. His stomach knotted in anticipated, breathing heavy, arousal at near fever pitch. She hesitated, holding the moment. She flicked the tip of her tongue over one waiting peak and then blew. Max groaned, clenching one hand in her hair, the other in the sheet. It was all the fuel she needed and from there her assault intensified without mercy. Pure unbridled lust swept through his body, the temptation to let her work her magic when he felt a hand reaching down lower was almost painful to resist. But he did. Gently, yet firmly he flipped her over. Her gaze was intoxicating, heavy lidded, her lips sensually parted and perfectly swollen. It was probably the right time to declare his love and devotion once again, but words seemed superfluous, almost inadequate to describe how he felt at that moment.

Millie took in a ragged breath. The intensity of his stare, the strength in his arms the perfect weight of his body resting against hers sent waves of arousal hurtling through her. She needed his kiss again, needed to mark his back with her nails as if to brand him as hers, needed to wrap her legs around his hips and hold him close. He cupped a breast and dipped his head ready to inflict the same torture on her as she had done to him. Her back arched in offering, her hands clasping his head to her breast and moaning when he moved across to the other. She fought to control her breathing as his hand slipped lower, caressing the inward curve of her waist and then the flaring outward line of her hip. Familiarity did nothing to dull the excitement which now built at a ferocious rate and then he was there. His fingers found the hottest, neediest part of her. He knew what she liked, how she liked it. Slow, firm, increasing with each passing second. Then he was inside her, promising so much but for now allowing only a taste. Still his lips and tongue delivered delicious wave after wave of exquisite torment, she barely knew which to focus on, which would bring her completion first. But this wasn't the way she wanted it to be. "On top," she managed to force out in a rasping whisper. Compliantly, Max rolled over to his back, taking her with him, gazing in wonder as she pushed her hair behind her ears. She stared down at her man, from his eyes, to his muscular chest and hard stomach, to the even harder length of his cock, so proudly displaying his virility for all it was worth. A tiny smiled threatened at the corners of her lips but she hid it, provocatively raising her fingers to her lips. Men never could understand how this peacock style display could be amusing even in the most intense of moments. She grasped it with one hand and lowered her head, her tongue ready to do its worst. She heard him swallow and then groan loudly as she enveloped it with the hot wet softness of her mouth. His hips lifted, begging for more as she slowly pulled up, expertly teasing with her tongue, and then down again.

"Millie, I-" be broke off. "I can't-"

With practised ease and a belief in her own powerful sensuality, a belief that he had fostered and encouraged, she rose up to straddle his hips, and gazing down at him she lowered herself down. Together they moved in undulating synchronicity. He gripped her hips, setting the pace and driving as deep as he could.

"Please," he begged, needing to watch her, to feel her orgasm building around him. She slid one hand over her stomach and down lower to where they joined, her head tilted back. The ecstasy built, her skin flushing to the most delicate pink, her other hand leaving his body to caress her own breast as he had shown her to do. She plucked at a nipple, leaning forward with the surge of sensation that it produced through her body. She was close, so close, he drove harder as the motion of her own fingers frantically increased, taking her forwards and upwards, her body began to shudder and finally she was there, the hot wet walls within her fell into spasms around his cock, instantly taking him with her.

Later, while Millie lay one her back, her head resting on his still damp chest, she spoke. "I don't think we should wait."

"For what?" he mumbled.

"To get married, of course. Unless you've changed your mind?"

"No! I mean no, I haven't changed my mind. When were you thinking?"

"Before the end of this year."

"Doesn't it take a year to arrange a wedding. I'm sure that's what your mother said."

"Only if you want hundreds of guests a flashy dress and a Rolls Royce." She turned to her side to look up at him. "I'd be happy if it was just you, me and a couple of randoms pulled from the street as witnesses."

"I wouldn't," Max retorted. "Your father would murder me," he went on seriously.

Millie chuckled. "Perhaps. But why should we wait? What is there to stop us?" she murmured, planting a kiss to his chest.

"Nothing." He frowned slightly, thinking of the contents of those two white envelopes still lurking unsigned and unsealed in his briefcase.

-oo-

"What is it?" Millie asked, swallowing a mouthful of toast.

"Hmm?" Max looked at her, hoping for confusion but knowing he was failing.

"Don't 'hmm' at me. You've got that shifty look, which means something is bothering you." He opened his mouth to speak but Millie cut him off. "Truth, please." She fixed him with a hard stare. Max sat back in his chair and took a deep breath. He hadn't exactly worked out how to do this. In fact, he hadn't exactly worked out that he even really _wanted_ to do this. But, the wheels were in motion and something deep inside told him it was for the best, even if it terrified him. No more terrifying than marriage, family and a lifetime commitment, he'd told himself the night before. And besides, what was the worst that could happen? If it didn't work out, it wouldn't be the end of the world, just a blip. It didn't have to be forever. He blinked, aware of her eyes still on him expectantly and with a jolt scraped his chair back on the wood floor and go to the other side of the room to collect his battered leather satchel. From it he pulled the two unsealed white envelopes. Dropping the bag onto the sofa, he walked back to Millie and with only the slightest of hesitation placed them in front of her breakfast plate. Millie frowned at the envelopes laid before her, almost recoiling from whatever they contained that was evidently so very serious, so important to him. Her hand hovered, first over one, then the other as she deliberated which to read first. Finally, after what seemed and agonising eternity to Max, her hand came down one. He had no idea which letter it contained. To steady herself, rather than out of hunger, she took another bite of toast and began to read. Max watched her keenly. Searching for anything in her expression which might give some clue as to what she was thinking but she remained utterly inscrutable. Calmly she folded the paper just as it had been and placed it neatly on top of its envelope next to the other in front of her. Equally, frustratingly passive, she picked it up and unfolded it. This time, he was convinced there was a flicker of something, but it was too quick and gone before he could decipher her response.

"Do you want to resign? She asked eventually in a clear, controlled voice, setting the second letter down still open on the table.

Max looked at her, hoping that he was about to give the right answer. "No," he replied quietly. "But I will." He left 'if you want me to' hanging silently in the air between them.

"Idiot," she murmured with a small snort. Max bristled defensively and shifted in his chair. He was prepared to make a massive sacrifice for her and she was laughing at him. But then Millie smiled and the warmth he felt knocked aside all feelings of pique. "I would never ask you to resign. In fact, I think I would always actively discourage it," she went on drily. "You'd be insufferable," she paused before continuing more softly. "And it would take something away from you, from what you are."

"Well that's kind of why I thought you might want me to leave the job."

"What? To neuter you in some way?" Max winced at the mention of the word 'neuter'. "Like I said, idiot."

Feeling suitably chastised, in a strangely good way, Max stared down at his hands, waiting for her verdict on the next letter and finding himself oddly optimistic. God, he hoped he wasn't about to be shot down in flames.

"This," she began seriously, "this hasn't just happened overnight. A transfer to Thames Valley Police? What's been going on? And for how long?" He last question was especially pointed.

"I would have told you, I was going to tell you so we could … er … talk about it. Nothing's been decided," he added hastily. Millie said nothing. Max's optimism wavered. "Well, you remember I was involved in a joint op with a team from Reading at the beginning of the year?"

"Hmm?"

"So, the DCI I was working with, Greg Keats, got in touch at the beginning of the week, said they urgently needed another DI and asked if I was interested. It means leaving London so I told him I'd have to talk it over with you and then all hell cut loose, so …" Max trailed off hoping Millie would finish his sentence for him. Unfortunately she didn't seem to be feeling particularly helpful and instead he was forced to carry on, limply. "So, I haven't had the chance until now." Millie still didn't speak. "There's a job for you as well, TVP are always on the lookout for Met officers, so if you want, a transfer would be pretty easy. But if you don't want to, I can keep us both, you don't need to work."

"Have you been speaking to my father?"

"No!" Max yelped, suddenly realising that perhaps he might have sounded slightly patronising. "I mean … er … that … well, I know you haven't been enjoying the job lately. I just want to make you happy Millie."

Millie softened as the anguish in his eyes. She looked down at the letter once again. "Well, maybe a fresh start would be good for us, somewhere new. Reading did you say?" She wrinkled her nose.

Max nodded. "But we wouldn't have to live there. You remember how much you liked visiting Henley-on-Thames last summer? It's close enough and well, perhaps we could go back, just for another look? Before we make any decisions."

A slow smile formed on Millie's lips as she pictured an idyllic life ahead among verdant tree lined fields and chocolate box cottages, idyllic riverside picnics and lazy Sunday afternoons in cosy village pubs. "Yes. Yes, perhaps we could."

The End ... for now ...


End file.
